The Hunger
by Lollirotxox
Summary: Living in the murky waters of misery is a little bit easier when you have someone wallowing next to you, keeping you just barely above the surface.
1. Put The Mask Back On

I should be finishing Surfacing right now… but this wanted to come out. I'm still new to writing in this fandom and getting back on the horse of writing in general so sorry if it's not as detailed and flowing as most! So, this takes place about a year and a half after the end of season 3. Ian's been gone for a year and a half, mostly will be canon with maybe a few additions here and there in form of memories and what not. The rest of the situation will be explained as it goes. I couldn't get this idea out of my head, I hope you enjoy! It IS an Ian and Mickey story, but it's pretty slow burn because Mickey has to work through some things within him as does everyone else , so bear with me. Promise it'll be worth it =] Going to do my very best to keep Mick and everyone else in character as much as possible, but I think being a single Daddy for a little while now would have given him the slight softness I express here. Ian will be back eventually, not sure when yet. I was too impatient to get this beta'd, so forgive any spelling or grammatical errors that I'm sure are everywhere. Enjoy! =]

I don't own anything, except any of the original characters. Complete copyright on them! My song inspiration for this chapter is "Cover Up" by Trapt.

* * *

_ Put the mask back on, put the mask back on_  
_ Don't take it off until everybodie's gone_  
_ No disguise has ever lasted so long_  
_ You created your own little world,_  
_ Where you could always be different_  
_ A place where the rules do not apply, _  
_ You could never be denied_  
_ You took advantage of a good thing _  
_ And now the void you filled is empty_

* * *

Karma really was a bitch.

That was honestly the only explanation Mickey Milkovich could come up with for the FUBAR soap opera he called his life these days. He didn't really know how he'd gotten to this point, had just been coasting through each day, going through the motions just to get by.

Each day he had to ignore the ache in his chest that flared painfully any time he saw a prick in an army uniform, or a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye. It had been a good year and a half now since he'd seen the only red hair he actually wanted to, but that was sort of the point wasn't it?

Life was, well better than he had expected it to be this time last year. Considering this time last year he was being saddled with a Russian whore and a false breeder life just to placate a man that didn't honestly give two shits about him. It made his inside burns with fury, but it was what it was.

The cry to his left shook him out of his reverie, and he quickly finished stocking the beer he had in his hands into the fridge before moving to the baby screaming for his attention.

"Shhh…" He murmured, still not fully used to the softness he was surprised seemed to come naturally when it came to this little life as he reached towards her face. His little life. And his alone.

As the irony of his fucked up life would have it, Svetlana died giving birth to the little girl staring up at him with wide, blue eyes. His eyes, thank whoever the fuck for small mercies because if she looked too much like Lana he didn't know that he'd be able to handle that. It probably had more to do with all the drugs she'd taken in her life before the pregnancy; her body had just given out. He wouldn't have wished death on her, it wasn't her fault his dad was a psychopath that had royally screwed up both of their lives. But it wasn't like he was heartbroken she was gone and he wasn't trapped in a farce of a marriage or anything either.

Throughout the pregnancy, he'd been hoping the baby would pop out black or Asian like Karen Jackson's baby had. Just so he could tell himself he wasn't fully trapped in this lie for his whole life. But, she hadn't. And when he saw the dark tuft of hair, the pale white skin and the bright blue eyes that matched his own his heart had clenched in something akin to tenderness as a fierce need to protect this child rose in him and he knew she was his in that moment as much as he'd wanted to believe otherwise. Surprisingly enough, it turned out Mickey wasn't half bad at being a father. The little shit warmed him in places he didn't want to admit existed, and he found himself being unable to deny her anything and he didn't even get mad at her for not shutting up when he was trying to sleep anymore. It wasn't her fault she couldn't change her own diaper or feed herself, or that it was hard to get a good lungful of oxygen in the Milkovich household with the bitter taste of meth and misery in the air.

As soon as he was in her line of vision, the cries cut off. The baby instantly latched onto his fingers, sucking his finger with the 'K' tattooed on it into her mouth as far as she could before he quickly jerked it back. He was pretty good about being half assed clean these days, didn't want her catching any kind of bacteria or grossness from his lack of hygiene but he'd been moving boxes and stocking shit all day and his hands weren't his first choice of things he wanted his daughter putting in her mouth. He made sure as shit she was always nice and safe and clean, and if anyone had anything to say otherwise they could just fuck off.

Pale blue orbs flicked to the clock, before he looked back down at his daughter and couldn't help but smile a little bit at her as she cooed at him. "Just another hour and then we can go home and I'll give you some cranberry juice before we put you down for the night, yeah?"

For some reason, cranberry juice was the only thing she would drink before bed at night. So he'd learned quickly that whenever he wanted her to sleep, give her some of it and she was out like a light.

Her ecstatic burble was enough of a response for him, not that he really believed she understood him but he knew his voice soothed her for some weird reason. Must mean she loved him or some shit. Not like she really had a choice, he was really all she had. Poor kid. She was destined to be fucked up, just like the rest of them.

He had kind of made it his mission to make sure she made it out as unscathed as possible. Taking up full time hours at the Kash N Grab because well fuck, he was already comfortable there and Linda kind of understood his situation. She was too wrapped up in her own toddler and pre-adolescents to truly care, but she let him bring the baby to work when Mandy couldn't watch her and didn't give him too much shit for being half fucked out of his mind when he was having a particularly bad day. Besides, it was beneficial for her to have a Milkovich working there, intimidating as he always was. Good for business. He wanted to eventually be able to do something more, maybe take up that job tarring roofs or be a bartender or just something to at least attempt at giving his kid some semblance of normalcy and a little better quality of life than living at the Milkovich house with his father and brothers would give her. At least Mandy shared his sentiments as well, and did her best to keep anything harmful away from the girl.

Terry was still terrorizing his children on a daily basis, and Mickey was more frequently that target than ever before since Lana had died. Guess that meant the faggot in him was showing more, fuck if he knew. He just shut the fuck up and took it; the harsh, unnecessary beatings and the cruel words and taunts. Because really, what could he do? He had a ten month old baby girl to look out for, and he sure as fuck couldn't afford his own place in the current situation he was in so he was trapped. He'd keep his mouth shut as long as Terry kept the roof over his and his daughter's head that was all he really cared about at this point. Especially because Terry wasn't stupid enough to even go near his girl, which was a fucking good thing because Mickey didn't know how he'd handle it if Terry was even breathing on her with her so tiny and fragile.

Just as he was finishing up unloading the last case of beer lost in his own head, the bell over the door jingled to announce another being's presence in the store. Eyes flicking up swiftly to check out the person and decide whether his girl was safe where she was in her little rocker on the counter by the register, he was satisfied when he saw a petite brunette girl with a baby on her hip and went back to his business. No threat detected.

After a minute of the girl moving around the store and grabbing a handful of things, Mickey made his way to the register to ring her out. Not bothering to meet her eyes while doing so, he quickly bagged the contents she'd spilled on the counter before totally everything up and speaking in a bored voice. "Fifteen seventy five."

"Can I have a pack of Marlboro Reds too?" Came a soft reply, and Mickey couldn't explain it but something in her voice made his eyes finally lift to latch onto hers.

He didn't move right away, taking in the sight of this girl as she just stared right back. She was very pretty, almost unfairly so if you went for that team and he could imagine lots of girls hating her right away for it because it was a very natural kind of pretty. The way Mandy was, when she didn't have all that shit caked on her face. This girl didn't have barely any make up on at all, if she did the large purple bags under her eyes wouldn't be showing so much, standing out against her skin that was almost even paler than his. Said eyes were a shade of intensely deep sapphire blue, he'd never seen anything like them before. They were almost teal they were so blue. Her sharp cheekbones seem to be sunken in, curving down into a heart shaped jaw around bitten and swollen lips. Her long milk chocolate brown hair fell down below her elbows in messy waves and her stance screamed exhaustion. Like she had no life left in her and was forcing herself to make it through every minute that passed. Something in her eyes told him she was very lonely, and he didn't know how he knew that. Just did. She wasn't very tall at all, standing at maybe five foot three at most and her frame was slight. Her clothes looked ragged and rumpled, as if she hadn't changed for a day or two and she reeked of baby and smoke.

The baby clinging to her side was fucking adorable and he couldn't help but smile a bit at the little one. So he had a soft spot for little girls now, fucking sue him. She had hair like her mother's maybe just a tiny bit lighter, more of a chestnut brown than the deep brown of the older girls, her skin a had a little more color and her eyes were a freaky warm amber color. Like the color light brown eyes are when the sun shines in them, almost like honey. She smiled widely at him, before her eyes landed on his daughter and she squealed and tried to burst of her mother's arms in excitement.

"No, hold still!" The girl sighed, holding her a bit tighter even through the insistent squirms.

Realizing he hadn't acknowledged the girls request and was just staring at her like a fucking creep, he grunted in answer and reached up to grab said cigarettes and added it to her bill. As he told her the new total he reached in front of the register and grabbed a lollipop before handing it to the little girl in front of him, taking pity on the mother as she struggled to keep a grip on her daughter.

Distraction working like a charm, the little girl snatched the sucker from him and popped it into her mouth. After happily licking it for a few moments as her mom pulled some bills from her back pocket and set them on the counter with a look of gratitude sent his way, he found himself unable to look away from the light brown eyes that seemed to hold too much wisdom for her young age. She couldn't be more than two, but she held his stare and grinned widely at him.

"Hi!" She said around the candy, waving a bit at him.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he half waved back at her with one hand while the other gave her mother her change. "Heya."

"What's your name?" The little girl asked curiously, tilting her head to the side like she found him to be the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

"Mickey." He answered simply, one hand dropping to let his own daughter absently play with his fingers. "What's yours?"

"Marley. Lots of people have pretty blue eyes, but I like yours cause they're pretty but sad like Mommy's."

Eyebrows quirking at the strangely profound statement of the little girl her mother shrugged at him in ways of answer, like she was more than use to the intelligence of her daughter. He was a little shocked, and quite frankly was not looking forward to the innocent bluntness of toddlers when his girl got to that age.

"She's uh…" The mother started, but he held his hand up to show her no explanation was necessary. She smiled at him weakly, and it didn't touch her eyes. Her feet seemed rooted to the spot even though she had her grocery bag in her hand, staring at him slightly. "What's your daughter's name?"

Mickey hesitated for a moment, shifting a little awkwardly. He hated when people asked him this. Hated having to explain. Hated that it made him seem detached, like he didn't care about the little shit.

"Doesn't have one yet." He told the girl, waiting for the bewildered look he always got.

"How old is she?"

"Nine months."

"Nine months and you haven't named her yet, what the fuck is wrong with you?" She scoffed, smirking disbelievingly at him with a little chuckle.

That was when he decided he liked this girl. She didn't reprimand him like everyone else did, saying how cold it was to not name his girl. Like it was a form of child abuse or some shit. He just hadn't thought of or found anything he felt suited her, didn't want her saddled with some stupid name the rest of her life.

Scowling anyways, Mickey motioned towards Marley. "Shouldn't you be getting her to bed?"

The girls eyes lowered to the ground a bit abashedly and her slender shoulders rose and fell again. "Can you point me in the direction of a decent hotel?"

And of course he should have realized she wasn't from around here. Didn't have the Chicago drawl to her voice, didn't have the South Side toughness in her eyes. He didn't know why he did what he did next, maybe it was because he saw something of himself in her. That emptiness, like a piece of her was missing.

Maybe she was half whole like he was, coasting through life for the girl in her arms.

"No good hotels around here. You passing through or what?" He asked, trying to prod at her situation a bit more without making it obvious. Something about her just held his attention. He felt like there was a reason she was standing in front of him, like the world had brought her through the door from some kind of higher reason; not that he believed in that kind of shit, but still he couldn't shake the feeling.

"I don't even know." The honesty in her voice was raw, and she sounded like a lost little girl in a big world that wanted to eat her up.

An idea sparked to life in his mind. It was the dark hair and the blue eyes that made his next words exit his mouth. She reminded him slightly of Mandy, and if his little sister was in some random town with a cute little girl attached to her he sure as hell would want someone to help her out. And he didn't want anything happening to the sweet baby in her arms, either. Not to mention it would look good for his dad, save him from having to pick up some random skank and bribe her with speed so he didn't have to actually fuck her this week to keep Terry off his back. "I have some room at my place if you'd want to, I don't know crash until you figure it out."

Chocolate brown eyebrows furrowed. "You don't even know my name much less seem like the type of guy to even consider something like that. And you're gay, so I know you don't want to get in my pants. What gives?"

That's what he got for trying to be a decent fucking human being. His mouth opened to snap at her that how the hell did she know what kind of guy he was, when her comment on his sexuality registered and his jaw dropped a bit before anger took over his features. Thankfully, no one else was in the store or his head might have exploded. "What the fuck are you talking about?!"

Sapphire eyes rolling, the girl switched Marley to her other hip before answering carefully, seeming to pick up on the fact that she'd offended him. "What, is it a secret? I'm sorry, my gaydar is insanely accurate. I just know these things. Secrets safe with me don't worry." Her eyes flickered to his daughter, like she wanted to ask about how he had a kid if he was gay but she wisely didn't.

For once in his life, Mickey was speechless. How the fuck did she know that? Did something like gaydar really fucking exist? Apparently. Here he thought he was so good at hiding and keeping up the image, and this girl waltzes in and within seconds sees right through him. Were other people able to do the same thing? How many people looked at him and knew instantly? She didn't even seem to care in the slightest, like it was totally normal for a thug of Chicago South Side with tattooed knuckles and rough words to be a faggot with a nine month old kid working at a convenience store. Not only that, but she _apologized_ for calling him out as if she'd hurt his feelings.

And it was probably that fact that tugged the next words from his mouth, because her ability to see through his façade and yet let him be reminded him of someone else that did the same. Or had used to, anyways.

"What's your name?" Mickey asked, rather than respond to her comment.

"Brooklyn."

"That's a fucking borough, not a name." He sneered, one hand subconsciously reaching over to pull his daughter's blanket up a little further on her. She was snoring happily, having dozed off at some point during his conversation with this strange girl.

"Yeah, and Mickey is a fucking cartoon mouse, do you really wanna fucking get into this with me?"

Fair enough.

* * *

"So who does the meth I smell?" Brooklyn asked from her perch on the couch, feet curled under her as she sipped from the bottle of beer he'd handed her after she'd managed to get Marley to sleep in a makeshift bed next to his girls.

"My dad." He replied, no other explanation needed as far as he was concerned. He'd invited her to stay the night so she didn't have to get raped trying to find somewhere to stay or have Marley kidnapped or something, not to poke into his personal life which she was trying really fucking hard to do anyways. The initial shyness he'd picked up from her seemed to be slowly fading and the more he tried to just be a dick and deflect her curiosity a small smile would just rise on her lips. Like she liked him even more for every asshole comment he made. What the hell was up with that?

"Ah."

He didn't miss the longing the sparked into her features for a second before she hid it quickly. He filed that information away, but let it drop for now. How they'd ended up sitting next to each other on the couch _talking _over some beers and smokes was beyond him. Mickey hadn't planned for this to happen or anything, but something in the brunette just struck something in him.

"Where you from, anyway?" He probed a little not because he cared to know or anything, just so she would get off of the subject of his life.

"Seattle."

The look he gave her spoke volumes. "The fuck you doing here?"

Her little shoulders shrugged as cerulean eyes fell to the floor, and he noticed how the skin seemed to stretch almost sickly over her collar bones. He wanted to go make her some food and shove it down her throat. It was disgusting, really. Skeletal.

"My husband fucked off somewhere, no clue where. I haven't heard from him in over a year." The tone of her voice said there was more to the story, but fuck if he was gonna push her. It wasn't any of his business if she didn't feel like sharing. "I just kind of needed to get out, and ended up here. I don't really have anywhere in particular to go; Marley's all I really have now. So I guess I'm just kind of wandering until I find a reason to stick around somewhere."

And that was when the idea began formulating as his father's words from months ago echoed in his thoughts.

_"Don't think you're out of this just because that skank died, boy. You best go find yourself a new woman to settle down with."_

The more he thought about it, the better it seemed. What did he have to lose from it? She wasn't half bad company, he'd only known her for a few hours but he was nothing if not good at reading people even if he didn't usually care enough to assess what he saw. She clearly needed help with her daughter and, he could tell already, with herself. He needed his dad off his back, and persuading hookers and junkies with drugs to fake fuck him to placate Terry was getting really old.

He'd punch anyone straight in the face that hinted he wasn't a fully capable father by his damn self, but he supposed his girl could use some kind of good female influence in her life other than Mandy.

Fuck it.

The bright smiled she flashed at him when he suggested his idea to her made a warmth spread through him, and he decided he wanted to make that smile appear more often. He owed some good to the world after all the havoc he'd wrecked, after the wonderful person he'd all but destroyed-

Shaking that train of thought off before it could get too gay for his liking he pulled out a joint from his cigarette pack and sparked it up, passing it to her after a minute. It seemed like she wanted to talk more, a look of concentration on her face, but exhaustion took over and before he knew it she was curling up asleep next to him, head lolling onto his shoulder.

The dark haired boy studied her features unashamedly now, since she was unconscious. She really was a gorgeous girl, but there was darkness to her beauty. Like life had zapped some of it from her. Even gay he could still see that, could see how straight guys would most likely fall over her without much effort on her part. He wondered vaguely what had happened to her to make those bags under her eyes, and the despair show clearly in every line of her face when she wasn't conscious to smooth it over.

And why the fuck did he even care? He was only doing this because it was damn convenient, the world had quite literally just thrown the opportunity at him and fuck if he wasn't going to take it.

Sighing, he smoked one last cigarette and finished his beer before he hooked his arms under her knees and shoulders, carrying her to his bed and depositing her gently on the comforter. An urge rose in him, and for reason he couldn't explain a hand reached out to brush the dark tendrils of hair off her face and a small smile flickered over her sleeping lips. His fingers retracted like he'd been burned, but he sat next to her on the bed before laying back.

He didn't even have enough time to think how funny it was that there was a woman in his bed and he _didn't_ feel the need to grab the sleeping bag stashed under the mattress from when Lana had been around. The warmth radiating off of the brunette was actually slightly comforting, rather than repulsing. He found himself laying maybe an inch or two closer to her than was necessary, absorbing that heat and feeling his eyes slip closed before he could berate himself for being so impulsive these last few hours.

Something told him he'd made the right decision, had taken the lemons and made fucking lemonade or whatever the fucking saying was.

He just hoped this didn't come back to bite him in the ass, like everything else seemed to.

* * *

_ Cover up, cover up don't let them see the real you_  
_ Don't question anything you do_  
_ You have always kept it quiet_  
_ But your conscience haunts you every time you choose_  
_ Has anyone ever seen your real face?_

* * *

Authors Note:: So this chapter went a little different from how I had initially planned, but I'm pretty happy with it. It's going to be difficult and fun developing Mickey and Brooklyn's little arrangement. Sorry if it seemed rushed, I just didn't really know how else to go about it but I hope everyone likes it! Things will get more detailed soon as far as Mickey's current life situation. Brooklyn is actually a character from some of my original work, but the idea to intersect her and Mickey's heartbreak was irresistible. You'll see why =] Anyways, feedback please! I tried my best to keep in character, let me know how I did! Thanks for reading!


	2. My Bright Is Too Light

Hiya! Thanks for those lovelies who reviewed and are giving this a chance! You won't be disappointed, I have serious plans for this fic. It's mostly going to be Mickey's POV, with a bit of Brooklyn's and maybe Mandy's here and there. Ian too, when he comes in. Unbeta'd as always, sorry! So here's chapter two! I couldn't even get the first two pages written for the last week or so and then this lengthy monster just kind happened. Song inspiration is from 'Jesus Christ' by Brand New. You may have noticed I take the parts I want to out of the songs and ignore the ones that don't fit. =]

* * *

_Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face  
The kind you'd find on someone I could save  
If they don't put me away  
Well, it'll be a miracle  
Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again  
So what did you do those three days you were dead?  
'cause this problem's gonna last more than the weekend_

* * *

The front door slammed so violently the lamp beside his bed was fucking shaking.

That was the first thing Mickey's mind could register when his blurry eyes opened to focus as much as they could in the dim, bluish lighting of early dawn. The second thing he noticed was the girl fast asleep in his bed, her miniscule form curled into an almost ball and one arm thrown under the pillow to support her head. No one had been in his bed since Lana died, and he almost pinched himself to make sure this wasn't an odd dream before the events of the previous night came back to him. Right. Poor lost little girls, he needed a cover for a little while, yada yada it all made sense again.

Before he had time to think on that any more -or hell try to fall back asleep considering the alarm clock across the room was obnoxiously blinking 7:45 am at him- the sound of heavy footsteps leading towards his room echoed in the silent halls. His eyes rolled due to his never ending annoyance. Fuck having the only bathroom in the house connected to his room. Seriously, who fucking does that? He'd really like to have a word or two with the architect of the house. And by a word or two, he meant 'FUCK U-UP'. His tattooed knuckles always spoke better for him than any words ever could.

Only one person would be stomping through the house this early. He considered pretending to be sleeping and staying where he was. Brooklyn was still asleep with her back to him and Terry had seen nothing but that any time he'd come through the room for this exact reason previously, despite his attempt at forcing domesticity on Mickey. Gritting his teeth as his will bent to the will of his fathers, he seethed silently over the fact that he had to bend to _anyone's _will. Then his daughter's scrunchy little face appeared in his mind's eye and _fuck,_ he was doing this for her more than anyone. Taking a breath and hoping the girl wouldn't sock him he rolled over, throwing his arm over Brooklyn's tiny waist and tugged her flush against his front. Mickey's chin tucked into her shoulder as he tried to prevent every muscle in his body from tensing, burying his nose in her dark hair.

It smelled like fucking berries and Creamsicles.

He didn't have time to question who in the god damn world had hair that smelled like Creamsicles, Terry shoved the door to his room open and entered. The stench of stale beer, meth, sweat and just _filth_ radiated off of him and Mickey had to suppress a snort. And people thought _he_ was repulsing. Terry stood there for a moment seeming to suddenly realize Mickey wasn't alone in the bed and he seemed ready to strike and pound faces in before he noticed the long, dark hair that was thankfully covering Mickey's face from view. Brooklyn stirred and forced him to move his head as she lifted her neck while bleary sapphire eyes took in the man standing a few feet from them.

It was a whole two seconds before she lost interest and instead turned to face Mickey and snuggled in closer, throwing a leg over his and making it look even better than it already did. He squeezed the arms he had around her, head falling to rest on hers as Terry made a noise of approval and continued on his quest.

They both lay silent and still until the bedroom door closed behind Terry. Mickey breathed out a sigh of relief, his arms loosening around the brunette as he murmured to her. "Nice touch."

He was just about to pull away from the girl, too much flesh on flesh contact for him, when it hit him that she hadn't answered him and he glanced down. She was out again.

A scoff of disbelief accompanied his headshake. Great, now he _had_ to sleep all smooshed up against her. He grumbled to himself, before settling down to try to fall into sleep again.

And if he enjoyed the contact a little bit, well no one could fucking prove that.

"Mommy, mommy!"

That was the only warning he had, his eyes flicking open just in time to see a flash of a blue and purple nightgown before a tiny little body was wedging between them, jostling him to the side a bit.

Brooklyn woke up, stretching a bit before taking her daughter into her arms. "What did I tell you about jumping on people especially when they're sleeping?" She scolded, but with the soft smile on her face she might as well have not bothered. Mickey

Marley was now perched on Brooklyn's ribs, chewing on her hair and staring thoughtfully down at Mickey who was attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Hi Mickey!"

"Yo."

So he wasn't a fucking ball of sunshine in the morning. As far as he was concerned, the little girl should be honored to have gotten anything but an irate grunt.

Seeming totally unfazed by his disinterest, the toddler turned to her mother again. "I'm hungry!"

Gently moving Marley's weight to the bed instead of crushing her middle, Brooklyn sat up at the waist and rubbed her eyes. "Okay." Her spine popped as she stretched out again, before remembering where she was and looking at Mickey.

Groaning, he threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Alright, alright. I'll get you food but don't fuckin' get used to it."

He didn't see Brooklyn's smile as he trudged towards the kitchen, detouring momentarily to check on his girl. Satisfied she was still sound asleep, he began banging around in the cabinets trying to find something Marley could eat. All they had was pretzels, pork grinds and a can of questionable little balls that once could have been almond clusters or something. Annoyed at the lack of options, he ripped the fridge door open and pulled out the eggs. Quickly scrambling them and cooking them, he grabbed a fork before making his way back to his room.

"Here. Better like eggs."

The way those radiant eyes beamed at him told him she did, and he waved her away when she went to jump on him in thanks. He flopped back onto the bed, face in his pillows.

"I would've gotten it if you'd just told me where." Brooklyn informed him, curling her knees up to her chest and an amused smile flickering onto her lips as Marley shoveled the eggs into her mouth. "Child, chew your food!"

Marley snickered and opened her mouth to show her mother her half chewed eggs. "SEAFOOD!"

"It's too early for this shit, is this what I have to look forward to?" The dark haired boy groaned, dreading when his girl grew into her terrible twos.

The little girl only giggled, finishing her food and handing Brooklyn her plate. "Potty!" The brunette pointed in the direction of the bathroom, and Marley scampered in to do her business. Brooklyn leaned over, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Thanks for making her breakfast."

Mickey grunted in response, shrugging his shoulder a bit to knock her off. "Whatever."

Brooklyn just gave him that smile again, like she thought his sour demeanor was endearing. Instead of commenting though, she just shifted away from him to give him his space.

Mentally calculating, he figured he had about an hour or so before he had to go to work. Mandy was probably at school, she had taken up going to beauty school full time so she was there from nine to four every week day and she'd gotten a part time job at a salon in the North Side as a shampoo girl or something so she wouldn't be home until much later. Ever since Ian had disappeared, she obsessively kept herself busy. After she'd graduated from high school (the first Milkovich to ever do so), she'd gotten a job at a fast food restaurant for about two weeks before some pissy customer got mouthy with her and she'd dumped his soda over his head and flung his food on the floor before storming out. Mandy had come home ranting about how she wasn't dealing with shit jobs for the rest of her life and was going to actually do something with it.

He was kind of proud, though he'd never tell her that.

His sister hadn't really forgiven him for the whole Ian thing. Not for fucking him behind her back, but rather chasing him away with his lack of whatever it had been Gallagher was searching for.

And that was enough emo thoughts of the MIA redhead for one day, so Mickey rolled out of his bed and told Brooklyn he was going to shower.

Right before he was getting ready to walk out the door, he heard a cry from his girls' room and detoured there. He lifted the squirming baby into his arms, bouncing her instinctively. "Hey now, knock that shit off."

The fat tears rolling down her cheeks stopped at his reprimand, and she fussed about grabbing onto his face. "Da!"

A little smile tugged at his lips. Her first intelligent forming of words had been her attempt at calling him "Daddy" a few weeks ago, and it warmed him a bit every time.

"Go ahead, I'll feed her." Brooklyn told him, walking into the room to take the baby out of his arms. He hesitated; the only person other than himself that had ever held her was Mandy. Telling himself to stop being such a pussy, he gently handed her over to the girl.

"Formula's in the cabinet above the stove, baby food too." He stated, figuring that she didn't need a low down on the rest since she had a child of her own. The brunette nodded at him, a bright smile lighting up her face as she murmured down at the giggling baby in her arms.

"Got it."

Mickey still didn't move. Something didn't sit right with him about just leaving Brooklyn here when his dad's loud snores were filling the house. He didn't know how Terry would react to her presence, but figured fuck it, he'd seemed pacified by her being in his bed so he'd probably just be happy she didn't have a dick and call it a day. And he'd already told her about Mandy, so she wouldn't be surprised if Mandy came home before he did. Hoping he wasn't leaving her in danger, he moved to the hallway by the door as Brooklyn followed close behind.

"I'm done at six. You got my number in case-"

"Yes! Go to work!" Brooklyn growled, looking down at his girl and talking with that annoying tone people always used with babies that he wouldn't be caught using in a million years. "Say, Daddy needs to stop being so worried and go to work right meow! Right meow!"

Had she really just…? Mickey shook his head, calling her a freak and heading out the door to work.

Brooklyn dutifully fed the baby girl, burping her over her shoulder as she handed Marley her phone to play angry birds to keep her occupied while she changed the baby's diaper and found a cute little pastel green onesie to put her in that made the ice of her eyes stand out like crazy. The little girl was just too damn cute, and though she predominantly saw Mickey in her she wondered about her mother.

She had not been kidding about her gaydar, she'd just always been able to tell with one glance someone's sexuality. But Mickey seemed pretty touchy about it, so she didn't want to push. Figured she'd find out eventually. Glancing around the girls room, she took in the barren walls and general lack of life. Well she'd have to change that. Since she was going to be around indefinitely, she thought the least she could do was to brighten up the place since she already knew Mickey sure as hell wouldn't. Not for the first time since the previous night, she wondered just what it was that made Mickey take her in because he did not seem like the type to help…well, anyone really. Not out of the goodness of his heart, anyways.

The brunette busied herself for an hour or two grabbing the few boxes from the trunk of her car that contained her and Marley's belongings, leaving hers and most of Marley's in a corner in Mickey's room and bring a box or two or Marley's entertainment in his daughters. She wasn't sure if that was where Marley would be staying, but it got most of the boxes out of the way for now Marley immediately dug in one of them, ripping out her coloring books and beginning to scribble furiously.

Around noon, the two older girls began getting hungry and Brooklyn went into the kitchen to find some food. She felt a little awkward just helping herself, but she'd already decided that when Mickey got home she was going to make him go grocery shopping and she was going to pick it all up. The last thing she was, was a freeloader. And he'd done her a favor beyond any favor anyone had ever done by allowing her into his home, so she figured it was the least she could do.

Upon opening the fridge, her jaw dropped a little. Didn't four people – even if one was a baby who didn't eat too much solid food yet- live here? How was it even remotely possible that all these people survived on was Pabst Blue Ribbon, some eggs, a carton of milk that smelled like a dead body was in it and some rotten apples? The freezer wasn't much better, holding only a lonesome Hot Pocket and some ice cubes. She checked the cabinets, only coming across some chips, a box of Cheerio's with '_**MY KIDS- DON'T FUCKING TOUCH'**_ labeled in big black letters across the whole front – that made her smile- and a box of what maybe once was nuts but she wasn't going to touch with a ten foot pole. Sighing, she gave up and decided that she'd just go shopping while Mickey was at work. Calling out to her daughter and telling her to put her coat on, she crept past the sleeping form of Terry Milkovich to Mickey's room and dug through her clothes. She changed her undergarments quickly, throwing the soiled clothes back into the box and yanking on a pair of clean dark denim shorts and an army green camouflage tank top quickly, pulling on her Doc Marten spiked sandals as she headed back to the baby Milkovich's room. Cradling the baby in her arms, she grabbed her purse and the car seat that was in the corner of the room and headed quietly out the door with Marley on her heels.

Since it was the middle of June, the sun beat down a little bit more than comfortably as Brooklyn quickly unloaded all the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter and Marley helped by carrying a few of the lighter ones. She placed the baby in a little walker by her feet so she wouldn't cry about being alone in her room, and Marley sat cross legged next to the little girl and began sticking her fingers into her own mouth and pulling her face at odd angles to make distorted expressions at her. The baby thought it was hilarious to reach out and tug on Marley's hair, the older child's protests and whines only fueling her amusement.

Brooklyn chuckled at the interaction, noting that the baby was already a little trouble maker. Marley was a big girl, she'd be three in October and even though she complained the baby wasn't really hurting her more so just getting on her nerves so the brunette went about her business trying to quickly put away the groceries so she could hang up the decorations she'd bought for the baby's room before Mickey got home. It was already close to five and Mickey was due back shortly after six so time was of the essence. She snickered, remembering the text she'd gotten about an ten minutes ago, 'just to make sure his kid was still alive and she wasn't some psychopath that took off with his baby.' So she'd sent him a picture of the adorable scene of Marley sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, helping the baby shove little shapes through the correct slots in her walker and figured that was answer enough. She clicked 'save', because that picture was too cute..

Lost in her mission of stocking the Milkovich house with actual food –she hadn't gotten anything fancy, just some snacks, fruit and vegetables and a few key ingredients to make dinner for the next few nights- she didn't notice the large figure standing a few feet behind her. She was bent at the waist, putting boxes of noodles and various sauces to eat them with in a cupboard next to the stove when a rough voice behind her made her jump to attention.

"What are you doing, girl?"

Spinning to face the speaker, Brooklyn looked up into the cold eyes of Terry Milkovich. He towered over her from about five feet away, clad in only a grimy gray wife beater and his boxers. Her skin prickled at the sight of him, an uneasy feeling settling into her bones. She'd been too out of it this morning to notice the air of pure hatred and danger that exuded from him, and he'd been asleep when she was at her full consciousness earlier.

She sure as shit felt it now and fought back a shudder, choosing to smile at him. Kill 'em with kindness, right? "I um, went food shopping." Her eyes flickered to Marley, shooting her a warning with her eyes to remain still and quiet. Terry obviously would have seen her, but she didn't want any of the man's attention drawn to the children except that which was strictly necessary.

The way his eyes took in every inch of her body as he fully assessed her in the light of day was insanely creepy and made gooseflesh rise, but she forced the fake smile to stay firmly planted on her lips and the syrupy sweetness to remain in her voice. "I was going to start dinner soon if you're hungry, Mickey should be home soon."

His eyebrow quirked as he reached a hand into his waistband to scratch his balls. "Hope you don't expect any fucking money for that crap." The man grabbed a warm, unopened beer that was on the counter and popped it, chugging it almost in one big gulp.

Fighting the urge to curl her lip in disgust or roll her eyes she waved a hand in a way that said 'yeah right' and went back to putting things away, opening the freezer to place the meat and frozen foods she'd purchased in there neatly. The brunette made a mental note to get some better beer. She expected Terry to lose interest in her, but still felt his presence behind her.

"You fucking my son?"

She spun around again, slowly this time, and crossed her arms across her chest. "Yup." She answered, locking eyes with him and her voice unwavering even through her lie. Despite the vibes she was sure he constantly gave off, she was afraid of no one. There was a difference between being aware, and being afraid.

Terry grunted, nodding and muttering 'good' under his breath before going back to the couch and throwing his weight onto it to crash once more. Quickly finishing putting all the food away, she shooed Marley into the baby's bedroom and picked the little rascal up, bouncing her on her hip and pulling the other large bags in with her. She snatched a banana too, in case Marley or the baby got hungry. Easy smooshable for the infant, swallow-whole-able for the toddler.

Throwing some pieces of construction paper, safety scissors and glue at her daughter to keep her occupied, she closed the door behind her as she laid the baby down in her crib. Brooklyn pulled her phone out of her back pocket, turning on some music to drown out the obnoxious snores coming from the living room before pulling out her purchases and setting to work.

Mickey made it home five minutes faster than his usual time. For the last few hours, anxiety had been churning in his gut and no matter how many cigarettes he smoked it didn't lessen. The picture of the two little girls playing Brooklyn had sent him had calmed it for about ten minutes, but it had come rushing right back full force after not too long.

He didn't like being away from his girl for so long, even if he knew she was in good hands. As much as she little one was a constant reminder of how his life had changed, she was also a distraction from the thoughts of green eyes and freckles that inevitably plagued his mind no matter how he tried to expel them. Visions of pale skin and hard muscles, haunting sounds of "_Don't do this_,.." and passion filled moans filling up his mind. That frustrating ache bubbling in him when he had nothing to focus on, the yearning sometimes hitting him so powerfully it hurt when he had to step into the freezer.

His feet led up the steps, turning his neck to the side to crack it swiftly before pushing the front door open. Ice blue surveyed the scene in front of him, and when he saw no one but his dad assed out on the couch his heart sped up a bit. Brooklyn's car was out front, so they had to be here. That was when the music floating from his daughter's room made itself apparent, and he let out the tense breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. As he made his way to the fridge to grab a beer to calm his still slightly frayed nerves he berated himself for being such a pussy all day when he froze.

The fridge was full of food. Real food, not the cheap generic shit that filled the shelves when it was actually there.

His whole life he didn't think he'd ever seen that much food in his house. Incredulous, he yanked open all the cabinets and peered inside only to be met with the same sight.

Gritting his teeth against the flush of anger that coursed through him, he stomped over to his girls room and all but threw the door open. Opening his mouth to ask her just what the fuck she was playing at, his jaw dropped open in shock as he took in the sight of the room.

It had previously been Iggy's, and when Iggy got locked up for 5 years minimum a few months ago he'd moved the crib from his room to there. She was too young to be bothered by the cigarette burns in the carpet or the holes in the walls, the flickering overhead light.

If he didn't know any better he'd be sure he wasn't even standing in that same room. The walls were splattered in big colorful stick ons, butterflies and fairies and flowers and all that girly stuff. Conveniently placed to covered aforementioned holes, a large roll up lavender rug thrown over the floor to do the same to it. There was a bunch of toys on the floor that hadn't been there before, and new mural to replace the old worn out one hung above the crib. There was more, but his brain short circuited as he looked at the brunette, furious.

"What the hell are you doing?! We're not a fucking charity case!" He snarled, stalking over to stand beside her. He couldn't help that his eyes flickered down to his girl, looking away when he was satisfied that she was exactly how he'd left her except he was pretty sure the cute little outfit she was wearing was new but his brain couldn't even handle that right now.

"Calm your tits! I know that, but I wanted to repay you for letting me stay here and her room was just so blah I just-"

"Not all of us can afford nor need this shit," He snapped, hostility tainting his voice. It pissed him off severely, her spending money on all this shit. How did she even have money like that, he wondered?

"Will you chill out? It's not an issue for me and I was trying to not only do something nice for you, but for her too! Ya prick!" She retorted, rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips in such a cliché vision of a pissy woman it was almost comical. "Besides, other than this I just got food! Jesus. Get over it. Do you fucking feed yourself at all or just your kid?"

Mickey scoffed, looking her up and down and using his hand to motion at all of her. "Have you looked in a mirror lately, Twiggy?!"

"Hey! I'm a small person okay?! I was much smaller before Marley, I just look unhealthy now because my hips and tits got bigger so when I lose a bit of weight it's more noticeable." She shot back, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

Right. He was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that her appetite had disappeared when she'd been left behind. Like his had. Shaking that thought right the fuck out of his head, he growled at her. "Whatever! You shouldn't have done this!"

"It's keeping my mind off shit, okay?!" She burst out, her wide cerulean eyes glaring daggers at him before turning away to stomp over to the crib. All she did was readjust the thankfully still sleeping baby's blankets just to keep her hands busy so he didn't notice them shaking.

Which he did, anyways.

And try as he might to hold onto his previous anger, he felt it dissipate little by little until it completely disappeared. He could understand that. So instead of responding, he told her to come to his room when she was done. He wanted to hold his daughter for a little since he'd missed her all day, but didn't want to wake her. Once in his room, he pulled out the box under his bed and began rolling up a joint.

At least he could do that for her, if she was going to go all Oprah on him even if he was still a little pissed about it. A few minutes later, Brooklyn entered his room and hesitantly sat beside him on the bed. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I just don't take well to people doing shit for me, okay?" Mickey told her, licking the paper and closing the joint. Twisting one end and popping it in his mouth, he effortlessly lit it and took a deep drag before passing it to her.

"We're gonna have some problems then because I'm a giving type of gal." She teased, taking the offered joint.

He smirked, opening his mouth to tell her that they sure as hell were when he realized what she was wearing and he froze. The camo shirt was an eyesore, and he clenched his jaw against the earlier thoughts that were trying to flood his mind again. "Change your shirt."

Brows furrowing in confusion, she tilted her head and seemed like she wanted to question him as to why but decided against it and simply handed him back the joint and moved to a corner of his room. Reaching down, she grabbed a simple electric blue wife beater and changed. He didn't bother looking away, it wasn't like he was checking her out and it wasn't like she was making an attempt to hide herself from him so as far as he was concerned it didn't matter. She joined him once more, taking the joint back.

"That all your shit?" He questioned, motioning to the boxes.

"Yeah…I just wanted to get it out of my car. It's all Marley's stuff, too. I know she's sleeping in your daughters room but I didn't want to put her stuff in there. We'll figure out a living situation soon, I was looking at apartment listings today and-"

Mickey had quirked an eyebrow at first, finding it amusing that she would go buy all that stuff but feel like she wasn't entitled to putting her own daughters stuff in there. And fuck, he was already starting to get a soft spot for her and Marley because when he pictured them getting their own place in shitty Southside he shook his head and cut her off. "Move Marley's stuff into my girls room. We'll get her a bed soon. Those drawers are empty, feel free." Gesturing to the dresser across from the bed with his free hand, he sucked the last of the life out of the joint before putting it in the ash tray and lighting two cigarettes, handing one her to which she willingly took.

She didn't say anything, lowering her eyes and reaching over to squeeze his knee gently but he didn't miss the tears of gratitude that shone in her eyes. Even if she could afford it and could take care of herself, he had a powerful gut feeling that she didn't want to be alone.

The next two months passed in a comfortable routine of Mickey working and Brooklyn staying home with the kids. It was nice, because he got more work done when he didn't have to constantly soothe his daughter, and Linda bitched less. Brook didn't push for information as to why Mickey was the way he was, but she was a smart, creepily observant girl and put some pieces together with the way he reacted to certain things. Like the camo shirt he'd told her to take off, which she hadn't worn again since then. He could see a light go on in her eyes when she gathered another piece, but she rarely said anything. One night when they were extra drunk, she'd managed to get out of him a little about Ian, like how he'd left and was in fact a soldier but that was all Mickey would share. When she asked him how long they'd been together, he shrugged and told her they weren't really together but they fucked like rabbits on and off for about two and a half years. She just rolled her eyes at his attempt of making it seem like no big deal, like she saw right through him.

He also learned more about her. Like she'd grown up bouncing back and forth between Los Angeles and Seattle, and her mother was a fucking cunt but she adored her father. . She would speak about her husband, Marik, here and there when she wasn't sober but other than that she liked to keep it locked up tight inside of her for the most part. He couldn't blame her, he more than anyone understood the brutal pain that shone in her eyes whenever it got brought up. One night he'd asked her why the fuck she wasn't in Seattle anyways, since she'd spoken of a brother that was basically a best friend and some friends he could see the fondness she held for expressed in her face. She'd shut down emotionally, but had told him that everyone had just gotten sick of her being unable to shake the funk she was in since Marik had left. He didn't bring it up again, not liking that he'd unintentionally stirred those negative thoughts in her.

She enjoyed doing hair and makeup- and a whole shit ton of other crafty, creative stuff- even if she didn't have any need to work. She wouldn't go into detail about it, but he gathered that she came from a bit of money though you never expect it from her personality. She was the farthest thing from a spoiled princess. He also thought that her husband had some money too, and had left a big chunk of it to her and Marley after he'd taken off. She bought stuff so he didn't have to, like baby food and diapers and clothes since the little Milkovich was growing so quickly Mickey could barely believe it. She also got cartons of cigarettes for them to split – they both smoked Marlboro Reds, fittingly enough- and when their stash of alcohol diminished, she'd just replace it. She continued to decorate the girls' room, getting childish paintings for the walls, a TV for them to watch cartoons in the mornings and these real bright paper lanterns in all different colors. She hung them from the ceiling, and had a step stool stashed in the closet that she'd pull out every night when they tucked the girls in and would ask them, "What color do you want tonight?" since the glow would cast different hues depending on the color of the lantern lit. She even got a king sized bed for Mickey's room for the nights he was extra moody and wanted space to himself. Mickey still had his pride and didn't take handouts, but he wasn't going to complain about it when his daughter was better for it. And the bed, smokes and liquor didn't count as far as he was concerned since it benefitted Brooklyn too.

The girl fit right into their household, with her combat boots and no bullshit attitude. She was sweet and good to her core, but she wasn't one to take other peoples shit either and they butted heads quite often because of it because she especially didn't take any of Mickey's shit. Terry seemed to like her well enough from the interactions they'd had, but Brooklyn didn't like the way Terry treated others, especially Mickey, so she avoided him when she could like the rest of them did.

Mickey had grown to absolutely adore Marley, though he worried that her natural mischievousness and sometimes cocky attitude was going to get her and his daughter into trouble but he was kidding himself if he thought his kid would be any different.

Brooklyn and Mandy got along so well it was scary, since she was a licensed cosmetologist and helped Mandy out with school. He'd come home from work and they'd be engrossed in looking at pictures on the computer Mandy had saved up and bought for school, sharing thoughts and opinions on who knows what and the floor covered in cosmetics and hair shit as they took turns doing each other up.

Mickey was relieved Mandy had found a new friend, and that she didn't seem to be so distant from him anymore either. Sometimes, they'd lock themselves in the bathroom and the stench of hair color would over power the usual musky Milkovich house scent for hours while they did crazy things to each others hair. Mandy had decided she wanted to be a redhead and colored her hair an intense burgundy, and even Mickey had to admit it looked wonderful. Brooklyn had coaxed Mandy out of her fear of using hair bleach (apparently the shit was really complicated) and had her bleach the bottom half of her chocolate hair and the put electric blue fading into teal in it in some technique they'd called 'ombre'. While they did this, Mickey watched The Nightmare Before Christmas with the kids to keep them out of the ladies' hair, no pun intended.. Mickey thought that looked pretty fucking cool, too and had thanked her quietly that night for helping his sister. She brushed it off like it was nothing, which he'd come to learn with her that it truly was just in her nature.

That same night, they sat down facing each other on the bed with their lists and a six pack of beer. His daughter still remained nameless, and it was getting a bit ridiculous at this point considering she would be a year old next week. They'd thrown a few ideas back and forth over the weeks but nothing had seemed right. He wanted something unique and different but still meaningful. He was leaning towards bad ass chicks from anything he'd ever liked but was trying to not make it obvious, and she seemed to be doing the same but not really caring about being obvious..

With a cigarette dangling from her mouth, Brook reached up and tied her mess of dark brown and blue hair into a messy bun on the top of her head before taking the butt between her fingers and holding a pen in her other hand in ready. "How about Lizbeth?"

"What is that from?" He asked, brow furrowing as he tried to recall.

"What! The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo! She's a total bad ass, you'd love her!"

"Nah. Too plain," Mickey answered, though made a mental note to watch it as he saw her cross it off. "Lora?"

"As in Lora Croft?" She exhaled smoke with her words, and Mickey nodded. "No way, she's a whore. There was that cheat code where you could make her naked the whole game, you want your daughter associated with that? How about Trinity?"

Mickey tilted his head to the side and nodded a bit in consent to her first question, hell no he didn't want his daughter having _any_ kind of predisposition to becoming promiscuous. He was sure he was going to end up in jail at some point from beating some douche bags face in inevitably, but the less provocation the better. Then the latter of her words hit him and his eyes rolled. "This isn't the fucking Matrix, Brook. Rogue?"

"Do you want her to get terrorized her whole life?"

"Right, like she wouldn't with _Trinity?!"_

"Ugh," Brooklyn groaned, snuffing her cigarette in the ash tray right as he lit one. "Buffy?"

"Why don't we just fucking name her Xena The Warrior Princess?" Mickey retorted, scoffing incredulously.

Brooklyn opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but then paused and nodded. "Point taken. Willow?"

That name actually wasn't all that bad, he sort of liked it but he just couldn't do it. "What am I, a billionare celebrity? I'm not naming her after a tree, or a fruit, or any shit like that. Also, pussy power names much?" He remember some idiot had named their kid Apple. Cause that poor child wasn't going to get bullied to hell, or anything. "How about Maryjane or Gwen?"

"You wanted something out of the ordinary and kick ass, shithead. No, no fucking Spiderman names! _Comic nerd names much?!_"

"Hey, Spiderman is the shit, you bitch."

Undeterred, Brooklyn looked at the next on her list after sipping from her beer. "Faye?"

"What the fuck kind of name is that? Hell no!"

"Cowboy Bebop reference, duh!" As if him not knowing what she was talking about was absurd she shook her head in disappointment. "Isabella?"

"No way. Not naming my daughter after some prissy ass sparkling vampire." He hated that he even knew that.

He still wanted to strangle Mandy and Brook for forcing him to watch that movie.

"HEY! That's my daughters middle name, fuckwad!" Brooklyn glared at him and man, if looks could kill.

"Shut up. That was before that shit so it doesn't count."

"Fair enough." Brooklyn relented, her glare letting up as she flopped onto her back on the bed. "Dammit! We've gotta figure this out or at least think of _something_ to call her in the mean time!"

They discussed it for a little while, debating over nicknames that were either too faggy or too bland for his tastes. Brooklyn suggested 'Firecracker' as a joke since his daughter was exactly that, stubborn fiery little thing, but he immediately shot that down because that was just too close to Firecrotch for his liking. They sat in silence for a bit before Brooklyn sat up. "Have you ever heard of Kali the Destroyer?"

"No." He snorted, looking at her like why in the hell would he ever have?

"She's this bad ass goddess that always reminds me of karma and life and death and shit. And baby Milkovich does like to destroy things. The Little Destroyer!" She suggested, grinning happily.

"This would be so much easier if she was a dude," He complained, and when Brook wouldn't stop bitching in his ear for ten minutes about how she'd _finally_ come up with something halfway decent, he relented figuring it would be temporary anyways. "FINE! Her birthday is next week, we gotta figure something out by then regardless so you fucking win."

She punched his should triumphantly, before bringing her knees up a bit and resting her elbows on them. The black and white art on her knees drew his attention, and the question he'd been wanting to ask was on the tip of his tongue. He'd seen every tattoo she had, and had gotten an explanation for every one except the two on her thighs. There was a giant Tree of Life on her left side, winding from under her breasts and down her ribs to end at the dip in her lower back with the lyircs "Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds." He'd teased her mercilessly, repeatedly asking her if she liked Bob Marley or not until she finally snapped and told him to shut the fuck up, her daughters name was awesome and he obviously liked him too if he recognized the lyrics.

That shut him up real fast.

The half sleeve on her right shoulder was the one that stood out the most, something she called Nightmares In Wonderland. It was an Alice in Wonderland scene, with all the bright trippy colors but they'd been replaced with Nightmare Before Christmas characters and even Mickey had to admit it was insanely awesome. Dainty half cursive words ran across her left collarbone, spelling out 'It can't rain all the time'; when he'd questioned it, because he knew it was a quote from the Crow but wondered what it's significance to her was, she'd told him in was her best friend Kylie's handwriting. It had been their motto, and she'd never been happier that she'd gotten it than she was when Kylie passed away when she was eighteen. She wouldn't share anymore than that on the subject.

"What are those for?" He asked, motioning to the large greyscale pieces on each of her thighs. One her left, there was a portrait of Cinderella from the waist up in a large frame with vines wrapping around it. A banner went across the bottom, saying 'A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes' as Cinderella was half beautiful princess, half zombie and held her own heart in her hand, blood dripping from her mouth. The other was essentially the same, only it was Ariel and instead of vines wrapping around the frame it was hands that looked like they belonged on corpses reaching out and the banner across the bottom read 'Poor Unfortunate Souls'.

Obviously, the brunette had a thing for Disney,

She sighed, as really not wanting to talk about it but squared her shoulders and answered him. "I got the Cinderella after Marley was born, for her. I always wanted a daughter, and as it turns out I can't have anymore kids so she was like my dream come true." She paused, hesitating as she lit up another cigarette and sucked on it desperately.

"And the mermaid?" He pushed gently, not wanting her to close off.

Her lips tightened before she spoke. "I got that after Marik left."

That was really all the explanation he needed, and he nodded and accepted the cigarette when she handed it to him to hop onto the floor and starting packing the bong. All this talk about tattoos recently had made him start itching for a new one, but he wasn't sure what he'd get so he didn't bring it up. They sat in comfortable silence, just enjoying not being totally alone as the marijuana smoke burned their lungs, reminding them that they were still alive despite how empty they sometimes felt. As they'd both learned over the last two months, living in the murky waters of misery was a little bit easier when you have someone wallowing next to you, keeping you just barely above the surface.

* * *

_Do I divide and fall apart?  
'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark  
And the ship went down in sight of land  
I know you're coming in the night like a thief  
But I've had some time to hone my lying technique  
I know you think that I'm someone you can trust  
But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up  
So do you think that we could work out a sign  
So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try_

* * *

Whew, that was a long one! Feedback is always appreciated, I love to know what you guys are thinking! =]


	3. When Youre Living In A World WO The Sun

Busy busy yada yada, insert lots of excuses. Notes at the end. Enjoy! =]

Disclaimer;; I don't own "Makeshift Chemistry", Crown the Empire does.

* * *

_A lesson learned is easier said than done_  
_When you're living in a world without the sun_  
_My mind is struggling to remember_  
_I wish I could find a way_  
_To make up for all I've done_  
_I know the choice was mine,_  
_But can you blame me?_  
_The choice was all mine but I never thought that I'd be the last man standing alone_

* * *

"PLAY TICK TACK TOE WITH ME!" Marley pouted, stomping her foot down like the child she was and turning her big puppy dog eyes on the man standing before her. Her fingers curled into the leg of his pants, tugging insistently as if annoying the shit out of him would help her case.

"Can you stop your damn whining for five seconds?" Mickey retorted, leaning one shoulder against the door frame as his arms crossed his chest and surveyed the scene in front of him. He'd just gotten home from work, and after grabbing his usual after shift beer from the fridge he checked on the girls. His daughter was off in lala land by herself in the corner of the room. Brooklyn, Mandy and Marley were sitting in the middle of the room by the crib in a circle of half scribbled pictures ripped out from coloring books, a mess of crayons, art supplies and what Mickey was pretty sure looked like an attempt at a construction paper doll. When the toddler pulled harder on his leg, his eyes rolled and shifted down to meet hers. "Make your mom play with you."

"She lets me win every time, it sucks!" Marley complained, her face falling into a scowl as she mimicked his crossed arms.

"Marley!" Brooklyn scolded, but her eyes rolled too as if she wasn't surprised in the least.

"She doesn't let you, _she_ just sucks." Mandy corrected, dodging the stuffed bear Brooklyn chucked at her head as she laughed.

"Fuck ALL of you, okay?" Brooklyn grumbled, pulling the picture of Scooby Doo she was currently coloring closer and filling in his collar. She'd long since given up watching her language in front of the kids, considering Marley already had a mini sailors vocabulary on her and Mickey's daughter, well she was a _Milkovich_ so having a filthy mouth not only came with the genetics but was also the least of the future problems the kid could have. And it wasn't like Mickey and Mandy made the slightest attempt to watch their mouths either.

The corner of Mickey's lip quirked into a smirk, before he huffed in exasperation as the little girl wouldn't leave him the fuck alone. "Jesus, fine!" Marley's face lit up as she clutched his fingers and pulled him into the room as he wondered to himself when did his life become this? There was _way_ too much estrogen suffocating him all the time.

And then Marley turned to him with this big goofy smile on her face, holding out a piece of paper and a crayon like it was fucking gold just in time to remind Mickey knew when his life had become this. As soon as he had a kid that looked at him that same way. Not that he was going to start cooing at every baby he saw, but he liked his kid. And he liked Marley.

He sank to the ground next to Brooklyn and watched Marley set up the game, absently knocking the end of the crayon she was nibbling on out of her reach before his eyes moved back to his girl. She was about ten feet away from them all, holding herself up on those miniscule feet and staring in awe at the stand they'd found that was supposed to help her brain develop or something. It had blocks that moved, geometrical cut outs that she was supposed to put the correct shapes in, and buttons that sang to her when she pushed them.

Which she didn't. Once she'd hit them on accident and had spent the entirety of the song slamming her hands on it like she found it just at irritating as Mickey did. She'd been pulling herself up to stand quite often lately, and it was making Mickey uncomfortable how quickly she was growing. Two months ago she'd barely been able to say 'da' or lift herself off the ground. Now, she happily shouted "Dada!" and mimicked other small words she could grasp as loud as she could and being on her feet most of the day even if she had to clutch onto something to do it. She'd also learned how to properly use the word "no", which was already turning out to be a disaster.

The little monster hadn't even noticed him walk in she seemed so concentrated on pushing the shapes into their appropriate holes so he let her be and averted his attention back to Marley as she huffed impatiently at him.

"Mickey, come on!"

"Calm down, brat." He reached for the crayon- feeling absolutely ridiculous for the millionth time holding a crayon in his grown ass man hand- drawing an 'X' right in the middle. Mandy and Brooklyn continued coloring mindlessly, chatting a bit about some girly nonsense all the while.

Brooklyn finished hers, ripped it out of the coloring book to throw it in the pile of the other completed works of child art while she glanced up to instinctively check on the children. Marley was happily telling a glowering Mickey that she won. Smiling, she looked to the other little girl in the room and let out a gasp.

"Mickey!" Reaching out and spastically smacking his arm before grabbing him by the elbow, she stared in wonder, afraid to speak any more. Mandy noticed too, covering her mouth with her hands to prevent from making a sound and holding stock still.

Mickey opened his mouth to tell her to get the fuck off of him – he still didn't like being touched, and even if he slept a little closer to her at night than he'd like to admit so fucking what didn't mean he was turning over a new leaf or anything- but the complaint at her sudden touch died in his throat as he lifted his gaze and saw his daughter hesitantly take a step away from the stand that was supporting her. She seemed to be going in the direction of the circle shape that she'd dropped about four feet away. After the first shaky step she took two more.

"What? So she's finally walking, big fucking deal. Now we'll have another terror to chase around." Mickey shrugged nonchalantly when Brook looked at him like he'd lost his mind, playing it off like no big deal. Inside, he was swelling with pride and as much as he fought it a small grin broke through. That was his girl. Marley stuck her tongue out at him, understanding the jibe and he laughed a bit at her fake sad face.

Everyone was watching the almost one year old, waiting to see if she'd take another step. Her glacier eyes rose to lock on her father's matching ones, making sure she had his full attention as she took another unstable step. That was as far as her Milkovich will power was going to get her today it seemed as her legs gave out from beneath her. Mickey wasn't one of those parents that panicked at every bump or scratch. Maybe when she'd first been born, and he'd been afraid to even hold her without breaking her he was. Like his touch could shatter her fragile little body if he so much as breathed on her the wrong way. But then again, it seemed he destroyed everything he touched so that wasn't really an out of place feeling for him. So now, when she stumbled and fell he ignored the slight flare of panic because if he freaked out every time that child was clumsy he was going to need some medication. By now he was pretty sure he knew when she was in real trouble. She had also learned that if anyone got angry with her, she could pretend she hurt herself and cry and almost instantly have everyone doting over her. Mickey had caught on to that pretty fast, and now he knew better than to play into it. Mostly.

Brooklyn ran to her though. The brunette was used to Marley being a klutz but she still got slightly frightened over his girl sometimes. Hoisting the baby into her arms, Brooklyn practically beamed at her and spun her in a circle. "Good girl!

Mandy rose to her feet as well, her dark ponytail swishing behind her as she came over and rubbed the baby's head. "Ice cream for you tonight!" The girl reached ecstatically for Mandy as she basked in the praise, who took her willingly and held her close to snuggle her a little. Mickey found it kind of disgusting how openly affectionate Mandy had become with the baby. It was making them look bad. Then again, he couldn't really talk. He'd become softer than he could stand because of his fondness for the tiny life of his. No one else really got that gentleness, but she was his fucking daughter and he could love her if he wanted to.

"You guys should go out tonight to celebrate! I have to go into school crack early tomorrow, so I can watch the kiddos. Go get fucked up." Mandy grinned, burbling at the baby who was tugging on her crimson hair. Mandy winced and pulled it out of her grip, which made the little one tug on her earrings instead and Mickey smirked. Was it sick that he enjoyed watching her grow to find enjoyment in other's misfortune? She truly was his child.

When his sister's words registered, he stared at her. He hadn't 'gone out' since before his daughter had been born. Sure, they all got fucked up at the house sometimes when the kids were asleep but that was about as far as it went. He hadn't gone to a bar, gotten high under the El or shit, even punched someone in the face since he couldn't even remember when. "Why the hell would we do that?"

"Your daughter, who is STILL nameless by the way, just took her first steps assface! Go celebrate or something, get out of this hell for a night."

"Yeah, I know she's still nameless, slut. Why the fuck would I want to go _out_ to celebrate that?!"

After another ten minutes of the siblings going back and forth with snide comments and name calling- Brooklyn had extracted the baby from Mandy when she'd lurched towards Mickey to dig her bitten fingernails into the pressure point in his neck while he'd shouted and twisted her tit so hard tears formed in her eyes; Marley and the baby Milkovich laughed the whole time- Mickey finally relented, grumbling about how he didn't know why it was so important to Mandy anyways and he was fucking going okay so shut the fuck up already.

Brooklyn had run into their- whoa, when did it become _their_ room they weren't even a couple for Christs sake- to change and fix herself up a bit. Of course she hadn't gone out in a very long time so that meant she had to put a slight effort into her appearance just for the hell out of it and because she was such a _girl_. He hadn't bothered cleaning up, just changed his shirt from the one he'd worn to work to his light blue tank top before leaving Brook to her whatever the hell she did.

Now that no one was paying attention to his girl he scooped her up. Mandy was actively watching her but she was preoccupied with Marley hiding in closets and trying to climb into the cupboards shouting "YOU CAN'T FIND ME", laughing and chasing after the toddler. Resting her on his side, he ducked his head back when she tried to grab his hair. "Ah-ah-ah, my Little Destroyer that shit hurts."

Instead of acknowledging his words her head fell forward to bite his shoulder. "Ow! Knock it off, brat!" He cursed, switching her to the other side and reprimanding her with a look. She just laughed in his face, reaching out and touching his cheek in what he was _sure_ was supposed to be a caring way but ended up being a bitch slap. He bounced her with a bit more force than necessary, and she just cracked up like him trying to scold her was the funniest thing ever.

It probably was.

"D'ya miss me?" Her bright smile was all the answer he needed, as she nudged her nose into his cheek and nuzzled a bit. He may have returned the gesture. "Yeah, me too."

Mickey was trying to figure out a way to say goodnight to her without her going ape shit. She'd developed a bit of a temper over the last few weeks, refusing to listen unless it suited her. It was hell trying to wean her off her bottle; she'd grown freakily attached to that particular method of feeding. Brooklyn figured it probably had something to do with the fact that she'd never gotten breastfed and it satisfied something in her nothing else could. Mickey thought that was fucking weird but had to admit it made sense.

Any time he had to leave, mostly to go to work, she lost her mind as if he was never coming back. No words, toys, bribe or distraction could sate her. She just screamed her head off until she wore herself out. Mini tantrums were thrown for other reasons on almost a daily basis, when Mandy or Brook left for some reason, but when he left all hell broke loose. And she had extra energy today since he'd managed to slip out this morning before she'd woken up.

"Now listen…" He started, free hand coming up to wrap around the middle of her back in preparation for her tantrum. Why beat around the bush? He was her father and she was going to learn to listen to him whether she liked it or not. She was lucky he would rather throw himself under a bus than ever hurt her, because he would've gotten his skull crushed in as a child if he'd carried on the way she did. "Me and Brook are going out for a bit, Aunt Mandy will be here with you and Marley. Got it?"

"No!" The dark haired child pouted, crossing her arms and staring him down in determination. "Dada! No!"

A sigh of annoyance left his lips as he looked to the ceiling briefly before meeting his daughters accusing glare. "Yes. Go. Be good for Mandy, or else."

"No!" She screamed as small hands began to beat on his shoulder, tears welling in her eyes. "No no no no no!"

Gritting his teeth to hold onto any patience he had left- the first time she'd thrown a fit it had taken every ounce of will power in him to walk away and go to work, he'd felt like a piece of shit all day for it but now it was starting to get old. He held her tighter as she began writhing and squirming in protest. "Dammit, fucking stop! I'll be back, you know I will so why do you insist on being such a-!" He cut himself off. He would _not_ refer to his daughter with any form of derogatory terms until she was old enough to actually deserve it let alone understand what the fuck he meant.

Enter the ear splitting wails and thrashing limbs. Fifteen minutes of screaming bloody murder, Mandy getting kicked in the chin and the little shit actually head-butting Mickey –"She _really_ just fucking head-butted me!" "Hey, like father like daughter eh?" "Fuck off, Mandy!"- the little girl sobbed hysterically onto her aunts shoulder while Mandy did her best to calm the kid down. Mickey went over to give her a kiss on the forehead, figuring it was the least comfort he could offer her but she actually spat at him. If she was anybody else in the whole fucking world her head would be spinning, but she was his child and so he did his very best to keep his homicidal urges at bay as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Marley stood there, fist stuffed into her mouth and wide honey eyes looking up at him.

"You're not gonna fucking start now too, are you?" He hissed, and almost felt bad when she quickly shook her head.

"I'll take care of her when you're away! She always stops crying, just miss you." Marley reassured him, pulling her fist out of her mouth to speak.

A small half smile, only _half_, appeared on the pale boy's lips and he nodded at her. The kid wasn't bad, that was for sure. As far as pseudo siblings went, she was the damn best his girl was ever gonna get.

"Will you finish my movie til Mommy comes?"

Jesus, what did he look like? His mouth opened to tell her that _no_, he didn't want to watch some kid movie right now but those huge amber eyes sucked him in and he did _not_ melt as he begrudgingly allowed himself to be led to the couch. The toddler scrambled up next to him, curling into his side and resting her forehead on his bicep. Marley's fist found its place inside her mouth again, and he wanted to tell her to knock it off, made her look pathetic but he just couldn't.

Of course some Disney movie was on, the one about the hoodlum and the princess who had the tiger as a pet. The monkey was pretty bad ass, always stealing shit and having a tiger as a pet would be cool. These thoughts were how he justified watching this with the toddler to himself, as he'd found himself doing quite often since Brooklyn and Marley seemed to be infected with Disney and it was spreading like a disease to his girl. Not to mention awakening the lost child in Mandy who had long ago loved them as well. Freaks.

Just as he was about to shout out to Brooklyn because what could _possibly_ be taking her this long, they were going to a bar not on a fucking date, those wide ocher eyes locked on his.

"Are you my Daddy?" Marley asked softly, long lashes touching her brow bone.

"Fuck, no!" Mickey sputtered, a wave of remorse hitting him quickly as her face fell. "I mean…Come on, kid I just…"

What could he possibly say to that?

"I know you're not real Daddy. Real Daddy's gone. But you're my pretend Daddy now, right?" The look on her face made him carefully consider his words before he crushed what was left of this poor child's spirit. That pissed him off, the fact that he cared about anyone's spawn but his own. But what could he do about it? Not a damn thing. His thumb swiped his lower lip as he pondered what to say, knowing he had to watch his words because this child was particularly adept.

"I'll murder any guy that ever breaks your heart." He offered, because that was the best he could do. She just beamed at him like the sun shone out of his ass, snuggled into his side in a way that told him his words were enough. He was enough. And that did not make his throat burn a little, not even the slightest. His arm lifted to let her, and he was so incredibly fucked. Feeling this mushy over a kid that wasn't even his? So. Fucked.

Brooklyn finally came prancing out, chocolate and blue hair sticking out in crazy kinks and curls and her face done up more than he'd ever seen it. Why it took her that long to do all this was beyond him. Her eyes were thickly outlined like Mandy's usually were, and it made her already big eyes look even more so. If she'd been wearing a dress or something he'd have hit her; the ripped up Misfits shirt and lime green shorts still made him want to hit her. The bright ass shorts, not the shirt. The shirt he actually contemplated nicking from her when he got the chance.

"It took you half an hour to look like that?" Mickey taunted, rolling his eyes and ruffling Marley's hair before rising to his feet. Brooklyn just brushed him off as she caught her daughter's flying embrace with a kiss goodbye and told her to be good for Mandy. The younger child's screams had finally died down from the other room, replaced by pitiful whimpering. Marley just nodded dutifully, plopped back onto the couch and immediately became immersed in her movie once more.

Aside from both of them immediately lighting a cigarette, no words were spoken for a little while as they walked to The Lamplight. Close, cheap, loud. He knew for a fact that many people he wouldn't want to see were barred for life, including Frank Gallagher and so no chance of running into any Gallaghers or anyone else that would ask questions there. Not that any Gallaghers had any reason to ask him any questions anyways, it wasn't his fucking fault G I Joe had run off with his nose in the air and even if it was a little bit how would they even know that?

With the exception of Lip. That fucker always knew too much. Frank would probably put two and two together if he was sober for a second enough to give a shit.

Spitting the sour taste those thoughts left out of his mouth, he averted his gaze to Brooklyn who was shuffling beside him smoking her cigarette. Her eyes were dark, as if she were having bitter thoughts as he was. Lucky for them, they came up on the bar right in time.

No one approached him or even spared a glance his way and he smirked, pleased. Good. Everyone better just keep their distance and no brains would be spilt tonight. Sure, he'd calmed down some since his daughter's birth but that was for her sake. Couldn't raise a kid from the inside of bars, and he knew he wasn't Father of the Year but he would give her that much. No smashing in faces or dealing drugs with that little life on his head. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what could become of her if he were to still be mixed up in all that. Though his knuckles creaked and itched to demolish, his skim thrummed with constant energy begging to be released and there was such easy money to be made… Mickey had his priorities.

Didn't mean if someone stepped out of line or rubbed him the wrong way he wouldn't put them right the fuck in their place.

Brooklyn walked ahead, choosing a small booth at the back of the bar to slide into. Mickey joined her, rapping his tattoos on the table to let out some of the anxious energy bubbling inside him. Being in the public eye like this after being out of it for so long grated on his nerves, so when the cocktail waitress came over to ask after their drinks he didn't hesitate for a moment to order a pitcher of Yuengling – he just knew Brook would bitch if he ordered Miller- and three shots of Jack, keep 'em coming. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He hoped he drank so much he puked tonight and Mandy had to clean up his vomit mess in the morning. Serve her right for being a pushy little bitch. Probably just wanted to sneak some guy in or something.

The brunette across from him raised an eyebrow in what seemed amusement, but she wisely chose not to comment as she told the waitress she'd drink from his pitcher and would also like a Long Island Iced Tea.

"Pussy." Mickey jibed when the waitress turned her back. Brooklyn nodded unashamedly and threw a coaster at him.

"We take enough shots at home so forgive me for wanting an actual drink." Sapphire eyes rolled, dodging the two coasters that were thrown back at her. "Hey! I'll make a scene, don't think I won't. I'll stand right the fuck up on this seat and announce to everyone that Mickey Milkovich's daughter took her first steps today!"

The borderline demonic glare he shot at her, which should have made her evaporate if he had his way, just made her giggle. He viciously fought the smile that pulled the corner of his lips at the rare sound, and as loathe as he was to admit it her good mood was infectious.

Brooklyn stole one of his shots, ignoring his scowl and raising hers in the air. "To your daughter and to overcoming milestones, taking the first steps to the rest of life!"

"Your toasts suck." Mickey told her, but touched his shot to hers anyways and taking it without a wince. He quite enjoyed the burn, these days.

They sat there for another hour or so, people watching and making fun of some of the more terrible outfits and in Brooklyn's case, butchered haircuts and horrifying dye jobs. They debated every person in the rooms sexuality- "Don't even pretend like you don't have gaydar, you _have_ to" "I will fucking end you if you say that one more time"- based upon their outwards appearance. So they were a bit shallow. Whatever. They were on round ten, dead even so far.

"That bitch looks more likely to have a dick than suck one." Mickey sniggered, motioning to a large biker woman in the corner who actually really did look like a man.

"Okay, okay. That guy! He appears to be gay with his metrosexual-"

"Metro-_what?!"_

"Shut up! With his metrosexual attire, however I'm gonna call straight." Brooklyn announced to her one person audience, chugging the remains of the second pitcher of beer and stealing on of Mickey's shots. She didn't feel the slightest remorse, he'd downed half her second Long Island when she'd gone to the bathroom and she'd been nice enough to ignore it.

"You're kidding," Mickey snorted, knocking back the remains of his beer as well. "Look at the way he's dressed. Faggot."

Brooklyn glared at him like she did any time he used that word, she seemed to have a personal vendetta against it and the one time he'd asked her what her problem with it was she'd gotten so shrill in her explanation he decided it wasn't even worth knowing. Not like he was gonna stop using it. "Bet you dinner tomorrow that he's not."

"Prove it," Mickey chuckled, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. He wasn't worried one bit, because there was no fucking way she was right. He always got out of making dinner anyways.

Rather than respond verbally, Brooklyn fluttered her lashes – which looked disgustingly long with the make-up she'd put on them, seriously they were distracting and he didn't even go for that shit- and smiled sweetly. The brunette was the picture of innocence as she swiped the cigarette from between his fingers, took a drag and handed it back. "Watch me."

Sliding off the booth, she sauntered over in the direction of said guy and slid her elbows onto the bar, innocently waving over the bartender to order a drink. She stood there, lifting one foot into the air and twirling a strand of hair in such a perfect picture of an airhead it was kind of disgustingly impressive. The bartender moved to make her drink, and not even fifteen seconds after she'd gotten to the bar the guy they'd been debating over turned to her and smiled, his lips moving in words Mickey couldn't make out.

No way.

A minute later, the brunette skipped happily back over, sipping on her now blue Long Island. "Wanna sip of my free drink, bitch? Have fun making dinner tomorrow night!"

"Go fuck yourself."

Brooklyn just grinned, before hopping out of her seat once more to go pick the music on the obnoxiously glowing machine in the corner. Mickey waited until she was engrossed in her choices before snagging the blue drink and swallowing the majority of it. Served her right, cocky skank.

The blue eyed boy was starting to get bored. They'd already played 'Guess How They Take It' with everyone in the bar, and both of them were sufficiently drunk enough. It was kind of nice being out, just fucking around with no screaming, shitting kids in their ears every five seconds and maybe they'd have to get out a little more often but for now he was beginning to get really over it.

That feeling doubled when a tiny blonde girl slid into the booth next to him, her scantily covered leg pressing into his thigh. Mickey bared his teeth slightly, not in the mood for this one bit. Even if he was into girls, fucking Lana used to ware more clothes than that. And bleached blonde was _so_ not his thing.

Her mouth opened, to greet him no doubt, but he beat her to it. "Fuck outta here."

Little Miss Blonde and Bare's eyes widened like she was shocked. "Excuse me?"

A pleased titter rang in his ears, and he smirked as Brooklyn hopped back into her seat. "You heard the man, fuck outta here or I promise you sweetie, you're going to wish you'd never come up to him in the first place." When the blonde stared in disbelief, Brooklyn just shrugged and went for her mostly gone drink. She scowled at Mickey who raised his brow as if to say 'whatcha gonna do about it?' accompanied by a menacing smirk before downing the rest and slamming the glass on the table. "I'm bored, you bored? All hoes in here tonight."

"Bored." Mickey answered simply, giving Brooklyn a slight nod of appreciation when the blonde fucked off. "No really, let's bail."

Nodding, Brooklyn fell into step beside him as they made their way to the bar to settle the tab. When she reached into her purse for her wallet, he practically snarled at her. "Get that shit outta here." He pulled some bills out of his own wallet, tossing them onto the bar top. She just smiled, putting her hands in the air as if to say 'okay, okay' and he nodded righteously. He still wasn't her fucking charity, and even if she could afford it without blinking an eye didn't mean he wasn't going to pull his weight.

Upon exiting the bar, their feet easily led them back towards home. He decided to take a different route, just for the hell of it, and they passed the park on the way. Brooklyn squealed like a little bitch and ran excitedly over to the swings. Mickey just stood there and glowered at her.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to swing with you." He told her, hitting his cigarette and blowing it at her face.

"Don't be a douchebag, Mick! Come on!"

The corner of his eye may or may not have twitched a bit at her choice of shortening his name. That just served to irritate him that it did that and he didn't feel like hearing her nag on top of it so he took a seat in the swing next to hers.

They sat in silence for a few moments puffing away at their cancer sticks until Brooklyn, a little past tipsy, spoke.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Just did." Mickey smirked when she whacked him on the shoulder, exhaling smoke through his nose and waiting for the inevitable question.

"Why did you take me and Marley in?" Brooklyn asked, shyly looking up at him as he rolled his eyes.

"We've been over this-" He started to deflect her yet again, but she pushed.

"No, you've given me your shit reasons but you never tell me the truth." The petite brunette lifted her chin, crossing her arms to show him she wasn't letting him out of it this time.

Sighing in slight annoyance, he kicked at some mulch by his feet as he flicked his cigarette butt a few feet away. He didn't know if he was just tired of her asking for his fucking reasons, or if it was the alcohol loosening him up but next thing he knew words were tumbling out of his lips and it was too late to stuff them back in. "I don't fucking know, Brook. Shit just happens, and you go with it or you get beat into the ground. The only reason I have a roof over my head is because I kiss ass to a psychopath. If I was out a roof and you had found us, wouldn't you have done the same?"

"Absolutely." Brooklyn answered without hesitation, keeping her responses short and sweet now that Mickey seemed to actually be talking.

"Good. Then shut up." Mickey nodded, satisfied that he'd finally given her an inch.

And just like a certain little fucker she'd come to remind him of more and more over the last few months, when he gave her an inch she took a mile.

"Tell me about your soldier?" The words were extremely quiet, tentative like she knew she was walking on broken glass ready to shatter with the slightest pressure.

A hostile rebuttal was on the tip of his tongue – _your_ soldier?- but he really must have consumed more alcohol than he'd intended to because again the command chords fusing his brain with his tongue didn't seem to be on the same page. "What about him is there to tell? Tall ass ginger, determined to get his ass shot off. Needy as fuck with a wrecked family. Used to bang old married shitheads cause he had a daddy complex. Shit went down, I got married to the whore and it turned out what I had to offer wasn't enough so he ran off like a little bitch. The end."

Sapphire eyes widened, she wasn't expecting him to cave so easily but she knew better than to question it by that point in time because chances are Mickey wouldn't be so open again. "Ah, so he's a Firecrotch! Gotta watch out for those." She grinned, ecstatic about finally having a bit more of a grasp on the mysterious solider.

Mickey's lips twitched into a smirk, despite the sharp jolt he felt in his chest at remembering that particular nickname. "That's what I called him."

Brooklyn grew quiet for a moment, seeming to draw into her own thoughts before she answered him with a far-away look in her eyes. "I didn't really have any cool nicknames like that for Marik. He just called me 'Lyn when he was super serious or really mad at me."

Mickey didn't really know how to respond to that, so he kicked some more dirt instead of speaking. Mickey barely knew how to tell her about his shit, let alone respond to hers. As uncomfortable talking about this as he was, Brooklyn was probably the only person in the world he could talk to about it. His relationship with Mandy was repaired, but it wasn't like he could bitch to her about _Gallagher_. And for Christs sake it had been brewing in him for almost a year and a half now, and her sneaky inquiries were starting to get old so he figured get it the fuck out now and they could all move on.

After another moment, she pushed a little more. "What'd he call you?"

He considered telling her to drop it, because this was getting a little too personal for him. He wasn't a girl, he didn't feel the need to talk about his thoughts and emotions although she clearly did. He figured what the hell, she was always understanding and never really nagged him for anything until she did and he figured why not give it to her just this once. He'd already shared too much and then maybe she'd get off his back for a while, like throwing a dog a bone. "Mick." He answered easily, staring up at the El as it blasted across the tracks.

She nodded seriously. "Okay, I guess that's a thing."

Eyebrows furrowing, Mickey grimaced at her in disbelief. "What? Fuck you, it's a thing!"

"If you say so."

"I do, bitch." He confirmed, kicking some mulch at her for good measure.

Brooklyn just laughed a little bit too long with her head tipped back a bit before her eyes softened. "I'll stop calling you that if you want. I thought there was something in your eyes when I did."

Mickey shrugged nonchalantly, pretending he didn't hear that last part. "Whatever, doesn't bother me. I'm not some little pussy who's gonna take it up the ass every time something reminds me of shit from the past."

Rather than respond, she reached over and patted his hand before pulling out her cigarettes and lit one. He mimicked her, their individual streams of smoke blending into a big cloud above their heads.

Misery loves company, that was for damn sure. There was a sort of irony in the chemical clouds, each coming from a different origin but meeting together, blending and sharing their toxins all the same.

The spotlight had been on him for too long, and as much as he pretended he didn't really want to hear her sob stories the majority of the time, the curiosity was actually killing him and the fuzziness on his mental state pulled the words free. "So how about your dude, what's he like?"

Brooklyn winced, her happy face immediately shutting down. "He's…He's a hard man. Not many understand his way, he's someone you kind of have to pick apart to understand that his actions usually don't fit in with his words. Artistic in the most brilliant kind of ways when he feels like it. He uh doesn't say much but every damn word is true. He was a great father, before…" The cigarette between her fingers raised to her lips and she sucked furiously.

"How'd you guys meet?" The question felt funny in his mouth, but if it kept her talking and away from asking about him so be it.

"Kylie." The anguish that laced her tone was almost tangible when she breathed out her lost friend's name.

"Ahh. So…what happened to her?"

She scowled but opened her mouth to answer him anyways, as if she had to. Which she did. If she was gonna be poking around in his business damn straight he was gonna dig her shit up too. "She…She over dosed. No one really knows for sure if it was intentional or not, but…" Her brows crinkled and her eyes lowered, leaving the end of that sentence in the air.

'But, I know it was.'

"Hey, none of that." He protested, seeing the tears rising in her eyes. If she was gonna start fucking crying the conversation was over as far as he was concerned. She was all fucking happy and fine all night, it was a change and it was nice and he hadn't even realized it was encouraging a better mind state for him as well. Now for that to flip so suddenly was actually extremely irritating to Mickey. There was enough girly shit in the air with them talking about their ghosts. This specific ghost she spoke of, and now from finally finding out how her best friend had gone, sparked long buried thoughts of his ghost that had met the same end. Which only served to bring up more resentment as thoughts of the one person whose love he'd openly accepted plagued his thoughts. Before that love was overpowered by a burning need for chemicals melted through a pipe, hot liquid shot in a needle until there's no more air to breathe in the smoke, no more veins to pump the high.

Brooklyn smiled weakly, visibly shaking herself before something dawned on her. "Wait, something you said before doesn't make sense. If he used to bang old married dudes, how come there was such a problem with you and Lana?"

Mickey felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut, hearing he words he himself wondered a thousand times aloud. He sucked as hard as he could on his smoke, the exasperation coursing through him on top of his previous thoughts making him really want to punch something. "Fuck if I know, that hypocritical homewrecker. Guess it was different when they spoiled his ass." He felt regret almost instantly for bad mouthing Ian like that, and he knew that wasn't fair. It had been about so much more than that with them, and he damn well knew it(now). But that didn't change the fact that it felt good to bash the redhead a little because it wasn't fucking fair that he was the only one he gave a shit if he had a ring on his finger or not. All because he wouldn't admit verbally that he liked cock; couldn't profess some pointless words to confirm even more useless feelings, feelings whose mere existence showed how weak he'd become and signed his death warrant. Feelings that fucking ate him alive every second of every day, burned his flesh from the inside out and left screaming thoughts and bursting lights behind his eyes.

After a few moments of nothing – where he was sure she was analyzing every word he'd given her- Brooklyn's gentle words floated into his ears. "You're not as unlovable as you think you are, Mickey. You're actually pretty awesome. I know you want to punch me and fuck me up, and that you don't give a shit but you can just deal with it. You got a bad hand in life but... "

Making a fake gagging noise, Mickey pretended to wretch. "Can you stop before I puke? None of that shit matters, it is what it is and I got the hand I got." 'He got a bad hand in life', that was the fucking understatement of the year. Such an understatement that it hurt his head as his mind swirled into thoughts about all the terrible, ironic bullshit his life had handed him.

The bitterness must've shown through more than he'd intended because her eyes flashed in anger as they met his. She had this terrible habit of getting angry with him for just accepting the shit he had to and not fighting it, and couldn't believe he still was so stubborn about never admitting his sexuality and true self out loud because "_how can you _live_ like that, Mickey?"_

"Why, because -"

She stopped cold. It was either the panic that crept onto his face, or that she remembered where they were. In public. Outside, in South Side Chicago where anyone could hear. Anyone, who could be loaded and wouldn't hesitate for a heartbeat to take him out if his secret was revealed. After all, a boy who loves boys is a dead boy in these parts.

It definitely wasn't the look on his face, he nodded to himself. She just came to her senses, that was all.

Though the way her eyes widened and she seemed to visibly deflate told him otherwise, apologies blended with determination flashing in them as she stared him down. "You need to accept it, Mickey. You just do."

He was positive she wasn't talking about his character that time. But he was absolutely not going to talk about his liking dick and the shit it got him into in his fucked up life. She could call him on it and be aware of it, sure. And yes, she knew about Ian. Didn't mean they were going to brush each others hair, paint their nails over sharing feelings. Besides, fuck her. He accepted it, it was the rest of the fucking world that wouldn't. So he just pulled on his cigarette and stared at his feet, choosing not to answer her.

Both of their walls slammed back down, for the time being any ways. He knew there'd be a night soon when she got a little extra fucked up and spilled, more than the small glimpses he'd gotten so far. Clearly, he couldn't fucking keep his mouth shut and she just kept finding out more and more about him as well.

If he was being honest with himself, it wasn't so bad. He actually felt a little better, finally saying some of that out loud. Not that he was going to make a habit of it, though he was sure she was going to try. Bitch was always trying to get shit out of him, but was reluctant herself to share most of the time.

"Come on, the girls are probably making Mandy go batshit." Mickey said gruffly, tapped out of for the night. Now he was just thinking about things he usually blocked out, and it was just going to slowly turn his temperament sour. He wanted to get back to the house and just sleep.

Brooklyn nodded but instead of standing she started pushing her legs back and forth, gaining momentum on the swing to get into the air. After she was high enough, she launched herself forwards into the air, landing on her feet in a surprisingly graceful move for the usually clumsy girl. Out of breath and grinning like a lunatic, she motioned to him. "Well, let's go!"

"Fucking maniac," He mumbled, following her lead and falling easily into step with her as the made their way back to the Milkovich house. He wasn't stupid, and knew she was putting on an act to cover up how shaken she was from the memories their conversation had drug out. However, he said nothing and instead distracted her. "Your kid asked me if I was her dad earlier."

Her eyebrows flitted to her hairline and her lips pressed in a hard line of amusement, as if the mental image of that happening was funny. "Oh? And you said?"

"Told her I'd break any guy's face that broke her heart." Mickey said, shoulder lifting in an offhanded gesture as if it was no big deal.

"Aw, Mickey!"

"What? Just didn't want her to start the waterworks on me so I figured that would shut her up."

"Sure, Mickey. Sure."

The dark haired boy ignored her sarcastic tone, and his foot accidently popped up to trip her up. He laughed at her pained expression the whole way home, feeling less weighed down by the weight of his world than he had in a while.

* * *

_So yeah, I pulled the plug  
But I swore the spark would still be there_ _Buried beneath promises and lies_  
_We suffocated in all our own filth_  
_I swear I only wanted what was best, but you just left_  
_I was just lonely, you were in love_  
_But now it seems the tables have turned_  
_And I feel so alone_  
_Now you've left and I cannot fill the void_

* * *

It's getting so hard to stay in order and write these chapters, I have so much planned for later and I just want Ian back NOWWWW but some things must go down first. Things, I tell you, and you will like the things! I hope. RR please, any feedback welcome and appreciated =] The baby Milkovich shall be named next chapter, I'm going to try to have it up by next weekend but no promises. As always, a big thank you to anyone who looked over this in advance and to anyone who has given and continue to give this their time!

Also, for anyone who is confused as I know it has been a bit confusing: Mickey's daughter is about to be one year old, and Marley is going on three years old.


	4. You Help Yourself To Find Your Way

Sorry, guys. I don't really have any excuse other than lack of motivation most of the time and just generally busy in life. Whenever I go to write this I just get frustrated cause I'm so excited it's almost detrimental… Anyways, here's chapter four! Thank you all who have stuck with it and to those who care enough to actually find me on tumblr and give me a good kick in the ass to keep going! 3 As always, unbeta'd so sorry for any imperfections or errors! Disclaimers at the bottom this time, you'll see why. Feedback is so appreciated, and I hope this was worth the wait!

* * *

_All that you've taken can't awaken any chance with him right now  
Your eyes were closed when he left you waiting there  
To do this on your own  
I'm sorry, he had to find his way  
I know the sky could have fallen that day  
No one around,  
Or there to pick you up  
Still I know you can make it along_

* * *

The Milkovich house was usually filled with noise.

Whether it be the sound of knives being flung at a wall for target practice, water gurgling inside of a bong, the inhalation of bitter chemicals up the nostril or offensive, vulgar music blasting so loud the windows shook – there was always some sort of noise.

The ruckus on this particular day was of a completely different sort.

Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked in the door from work, praying to a higher power he didn't even believe in for the patience to just make it through the next few days. His daughter still didn't have a fucking name, and her birthday was fast approaching. They had about twenty four hours to come up with something, or the poor kid's first birthday cake was going to say 'Happy First Birthday, _'. Not that he personally gave a flying fuck about birthday cakes or birthdays in general, but it was his kids so it was the first one he ever actually did care about. Other than Mandy's, but he'd just gotten her some bootleg CDs, really good weed or gone light on the tittie twisters for the day as his gifts to her.

"Dada!" The enthusiastic greeting came from the kitchen, where two pairs of opposite bright blue eyes flashed to him. Brooklyn looked exasperated; seeming relieved to see him as she set down a bowl of something and all but threw the bright green spoon into it. Marley was nowhere to be found but he heard a lot of commotion in another room.

"Good, you're home! You can feed her then because she is being fucking difficult tonight." The brunette sighed, padding to the counter by the fridge and grabbing her beer. His girl was perched in her booster seat that Brooklyn had put directly on the counter.

"Well what the fuck are you trying to feed her that she's being difficult?" Mickey replied shortly, going to his baby girl and half smiling at her. "Hey, kid."

"Today we tried new things! She likes mashed up red beets and avocado, does NOT like mashed turnips." Brooklyn answered, her voice sounding weary and exhausted and she took a swig. "Marley got into the freezer while I was trying to feed her, I don't know what got into these two today but they both have a shit ton of energy and I wish they'd share some with me."

"Turnips? I've never even had one and that sounds fucking disgusting." Leaning his elbows on the table, the ex-con put his face within his daughters reach and allowed her to pat it lovingly.

"Dada! Dada!" Her excitement at his appearance was apparent, and he couldn't stop the genuine smile that spread across his lips for a few moments.

"Why you giving Brook a hard time, huh?" Mickey asked, laughing when the only answer he got was a giddy burble and a tug of his hair. "Ow! None of that!" Withdrawing from her reach, Mickey lifted the bowl into his hands and arched an eyebrow at the oddly colored contents. "The fuck is this now?"

"It WAS her dinner but she refuses to eat it! It's bananas and strawberries and a bunch of other fruit thrown into it, she already ate her hot dog that she dipped in yogurt by the way."

"Ewe." Mickey's nose scrunched in disgust. Hot dogs in yogurt? Must be the Russian in her because he sure as hell didn't eat weird shit like that. "That's gross."

"It's repulsive but with her growing desire to be a stubborn little shit about eating things I'm not going to argue with it." Another deep sigh, beer chugged all the way down and she let out a breath. "Now where is-"

Her words were interrupted by a crash coming from the direction of Mickey's bedroom. From where they were standing, he was closer so he beat her there to investigate the sound. Marley stood there, big amber eyes the picture of innocence and a sheepish grin on her face as the two adults stared in horror. The toddler held Mickey's .22 pistol in her hands. It appeared she'd been pulling down a stack of coloring books and knocked over an extra drawer that had been just sitting on top of his waist high dresser.

"Put that down right now!" Brooklyn screeched stepping forward as the color drained from her face. "Bed time! You know better than to get into things like that, Marley!"

"Don't fucking touch that!" Mickey shouted as the little girl blatantly ignored her mother, curiously examining the piece of metal in her hand. Her fingers were dangerously close to the safety, and Brooklyn gasped in horror, running to her daughter.

Thinking it was a game Marley dropped the pistol and ran past Brooklyn, straight at Mickey. He was kneeling down to intercept her with his arms, but the little shit ran between his legs lightning fast. "Hey! It's bed time for you, brat! You know you don't touch the grown up shit!" He yelled after her, giving chase.

"NO! NO BED TIME!" Marley screamed at the top of her lungs, running into the living room and jumping up onto the couch and throwing all the pillows and blankets onto the floor in a fit.

Mickey and Brooklyn weren't far behind, and Brooklyn glared at Mickey. "You had to leave the fucking gun out! She could have-"

"I KNOW what she could have done, we'll fucking talk about it later!" He snapped, stepping forward. He supposed he'd take this one, since Brooklyn had been dealing with the kids all day even though he was damn tired as well. He stepped towards the toddler threateningly. "Marley! Bed! NOW!"

"NO!" Defiant as ever, she scrambled over the back of the couch and ran as fast as her little feet would carry her to the oversized chair across from it and usurping its contents as quickly as she had the couch. Brooklyn shook her head, lifting her hands in the air in defeat and going back to the kitchen to deal with his kid who'd also begun screaming since she only heard commotion but couldn't see what was happening. This was Marley's new thing, throwing fits before bed time if she wasn't quite ready. Her tantrums were getting a bit out of hand. Mickey feared when his girl got old enough to throw them because he was damn sure they'd be a million times worse. His daughter threw tantrums fairly regularly, hers were just more violent and bloody; banging her head off the ground and walls when she didn't get her way, smashing and throwing shit she didn't want. She had taken to head-butting and biting people regularly whereas Marley just made as much of a mess as she could in as little time possible and played little escape artist when they tried to catch her. Fucking kid was good at it too.

Catching up to her, Mickey was just on her heels when Marley's little sneaker caught in a snag on the carpet. She was lucky though, and managed to hop on her other foot fast enough to regain her balance but that just gave Mickey an idea. Popping his foot out he snagged her ankle gently, just enough for her to face plant into the floor. He followed her down, carefully controlling his weight as he slammed down around her. Elbows bracketing her head, he curled around her and had her pinned in two seconds flat. She thrashed, screaming in protest but couldn't really move too much.

"Are you gonna fucking stop?!" Mickey growled, lifting his chin up to avoid her shoulder smashing into it.

"No! No sleepy time!"

Glacier eyes rolling once more in annoyance, he simply gathered her into a little ball in his arms and stood. The closer they got to the girls' room the more she struggled, but her efforts were in vain.

"I'm stronger than you, kid; you're just wasting your energy." He told her, pausing above her bed. She froze, suddenly switching up her game and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Pleaseeeeee! Don't wannaaaaa!" She cried, big fat tears welling up in her eyes as she tried to puppy dog pout him.

"Doesn't work on me, you know that." He scolded her, bouncing her in his arms a bit so she'd knock off the pathetic crying thing. He didn't know where her sudden bad temperament these last few days was coming from; she was usually a fairly well behaved child. Her pout increased, and he sighed before laying her gently in her bed. "Hey, just remember you got a big day tomorrow full of exciting shit."

Or so Brooklyn told him. She had taken it upon herself to plan his kid's "party", although he wasn't quite sure what kind of party she could have with the four of them, and Mandy.

But whatever. It shut her up and kept her busy.

"But-"Marley started, her tears welling again.

"Knock off that crying shit. You're gonna have to toughen up if you're gonna live around here."

The toddler's mood changed suddenly, and she giggled as he sat next to her. "You're tough! Teach me!"

His lips twitched into a smirk. "I will." He ruffled her hair, using his free hand to reach over and turn on the iPod Brooklyn had set up next to her bed. Marley couldn't sleep without music. "Once you're a bit older."

"I'm three!" She said, big grin and lisped words rapping at the doors of his heart. Fuck, he needed to stop that shit too. Getting all stupid and gooey over dumb shit like his daughter's eyes flashing with love when she looked at him, Marley grinning at him like he was going to protect her from everything and Brooklyn being the pillar he leaned on to go on. Not that he fucking wanted her there, he'd just made the best he could with what he had. And now, they were what he had.

"Not yet." Turning the volume up so the annoyingly familiar song floated softly around the room, he pulled the covers over her and tucked her in tight. Some song that he remembered from when he was a kid. "Now fucking sleep."

"_And I'd give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you'd feel me somehow…"_

A little pink tongue darted out to mock him, before the girls eyes widened and she smiled. "Mommy! Kiss goodnight!"

The look on Brooklyn's face was absolutely heart breaking for a split second before it closed down, all emotion wiped clean. His girl bounced on her hip, reaching excitedly for him. Mickey stood, going to her and taking his daughter from her. Pulling the small, warm body into his arms he cradled her to his chest and watched as Brooklyn disappeared from the room after kissing Marley goodnight. Hm, that was odd. Brook was always very overly affectionate and usually lulled her daughter to sleep a bit, rather than just booking it like that. Maybe her patience for the night was just shot, or she was in a mood. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to his baby. He may or may not have nuzzled her cheek slightly as he kissed it adoringly, setting her into her crib. Her eyes were already closing, and she smiled sleepily at him as she burbled in content.

"Night, little one." Mickey murmured, stroking her chubby cheek with the back of a knuckle before easing out of the room. The smell of weed drifted down the hall and he followed the scent, craving a good high after his stressful homecoming. "What's up your ass? Why'd you dip out of there?"

Throwing him a look as she pulled out the slider and viciously sucked the smoke out of his bong, she blew smoke at his face as if that would offend him. "Fuck off."

"Whatever, bitch. Not like I care." He shrugged, snatching the bong and taking a hit himself. Mickey didn't miss the flash of hurt that crossed her features, but pretended he had. She was so damn sensitive, and she said one thing but wanted another and Jesus, no wonder he was gay because no way in hell could he deal with this shit in an actual relationship.

A fake one, however, was a different story.

If he was being honest, she kept him sane these days. Having her around had lifted some of the burden of being a single, young father off of his shoulders. Sure, he had Brook and Marley to watch after now as well but it wasn't so bad. Marley was worming her way into whatever resembled his heart and Brooklyn just… She was just there. In every possible way, she seemed to just understand him. If he was having a shitty day and was in a pissy mood, she'd take the kids into another room and keep them occupied until he was ready to be around them. If he was having an extra shitty day and punched a hole in their wall, she bought a new poster to cover it up. And when he was just drowning in his misery but was too proud, not to mention stubborn, to admit he just wanted some company, she'd sit next to him on the couch with a book in her lap and a joint in her hand.

Aside from the burning pain in his chest whenever a Gallagher came into the Kash N Grab, or he flipped past a solider getting blown up in a war movie or other crap like that so gay he wanted to punch himself – that happened a lot more frequently than he'd ever admit to- he felt a little better. Like he was getting back to normal after the bizarre last year or two of his fucked life. Unfortunately for everyone else, that meant his knuckles burned from misuse. His lungs, nose and veins were way too clean for his liking. And he was getting a little too good at bottling shit up again, pushing his longing and regret deep down inside. So far down, he eventually just lost it in the depths of all else forgotten and refused.

Taking a fucking impressive hit from his bong, if he did say so himself, he handed it back to the brunette as he blew his smoke in her face in retaliation. "You gonna be in a mood for the rest of the night now?"

The glare he received would have burned holes in him, he was sure, if she were capable of such a thing. Rather than a snarky remark that was her usual, she just shrugged and took a huge hit again before passing it back and lighting a smoke. He followed suit, and they sat on his bed in silence. Mickey didn't mind the silence, setting the bong on the nightstand next to him and reclining back on his side of the bed. Brooklyn did the same, setting and ash tray between them as both pairs of blue eyes contemplated the moldy ceiling.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Brooklyn suddenly broke it. "What did you want to do with your life?" She didn't feel adding "before your kid" was necessary.

Mickey chewed on that for a moment, considering giving her some fuckhead answer and being his usual unpleasant self but something about her demeanor stopped him and he found the closest thing to the truth he could probably manage spilling from his lips. "Nothing. I was fucked for life anyway. Guess I just got extra dicked over…" He almost left it there, but after a moment he swiped his thumb across his bottom lip and added a curious, "you?"

Brooklyn shifted to her side slightly, curling her knees up a bit but tilted her head back to continue staring at the ceiling. "I wanted to be a platform artist in New York or celebrity stylist in LA or some shit since I was in Seattle. Or a kindergarten teacher. Or a marine biologist. Hell, even considered being a criminal therapist once." Mickey couldn't help the snort that left him at that. "But…Then I just…" She trailed off, chewing the corner of her lip nervously.

"What?" He asked, eyes flickering her way and wondering why she'd cut herself off.

"Nothing."

"What were you gonna say?" Mickey pushed, tone becoming menacing.

Her sapphire eyes rolled. "You're just gonna make fun of me."

His rolled in response. "Stop being a pussy and answer me."

Hesitating, she nibbled her lip a little more before giving in with a sigh. Reluctance tainted her voice, with a hint of wistfulness. "I was happy just being his wife. Just…When you're a part of someone like that, that's all you really need and everything else is just kind of background noise ya know? When…When two souls connect that deeply, it's all that's necessary."

Mickey heard the heavy ending on that train of thought that she left unspoken. About how after being ripped away from that whole, you're never quite the same.

Scoffing, Mickey inhaled deeply and let the smoke flow out his nostrils as he spoke. "Christ Brook, there's some Midol in the cabinet." He tried pushing it off like her words didn't get to him. But when her eyes rose and that…That knowing look that punched him right in the heart stared at him and he thanked fuck that her eyes were such a distinguished shade of blue because it was straight up creepy how much that look reminded him of the green ones that used to look at him in that exact way.

And that thought just put him in a piss poor mood right the fuck away, and he scowled at her. All emotion drained from her stare, the fire and assurance in them previously gone in a flash and then they were just utterly void. Dead, almost soulless. It was still creepy.

"It's time to color your hair." Brooklyn stated, eyes flickering to the top of his head as she changed the subject. "Your blonde's coming through."

Mickey gave a grunt of acknowledgment, but couldn't shake off the heavy moment as much as he tried. Not that he was some pathetic sappy fool who was pining away for someone but…Wait. Wasn't he, though? Just living his life, almost stagnant although content?

"You should grow it out."

He just shook his head, stubbing his cigarette in the ash tray and ignoring her. He rolled so his back faced her, wordlessly telling her he was done talking and interacting for the night.

Brooklyn just flicked off the light, plopping down as far away from him as she could get on the bed.

That night, he dreamt of bombs going off. Bodies dropping, limbs flying and blood splattering all around him.

But only half of him could feel it.

* * *

The following morning was hectic. Brooklyn had crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn, running around like a crackhead assembling things and throwing shit in the oven. A few curses and what sounded like dishes crashing were heard from time to time, until Mickey threw his covers off and bitched under his breath about loud bitches on his way to the shower.

Why she was making such a big deal about this was beyond him. It was his kid's first birthday, sure. But she was taking it to a whole other level. He had stopped paying attention to all the shit she'd been getting together for a few weeks now long ago. It made his head spin, and his sharp tongue want to lash out at her and he knew that wasn't fair. Over the last few months she'd been around he had grudgingly accepted her entirely way too generous nature. Didn't mean it didn't piss him off, he just had learned to not vocalize it. She knew it angered him. Wasn't going to stop her, stubborn bitch.

After he showered, smoked a joint, popped his knuckles and ran a glop of gel through his wet hair he stepped into their room, throwing on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that looked half decent. Then he wandered out into the house, going into the kitchen and stopping in his tracks. There were decorations fucking everywhere. Flamingos, rabbits, giant arrow signs that said 'This Way' and 'That Way' in distorted letters and…tea cups amongst other random shit. Rather than the anger that usually would take him over at Brooklyn's extravagance, a brow quirked in amusement.

She really had gone all out.

There was even a giant cake in the shape of a top hat that said 'HAPPY 1ST BIRTHDAY …' That made him scowl. She'd left room to add something, as if she wasn't quite sure what to put on there.

The rest of the kitchen and living room were decorated similarly, and he had to suppress an obnoxious guffaw when he saw his dad passed out on the couch, right in the middle of the girly decorations.

Striding past the dick, he went into the girls' room and found Brooklyn, Marley and his daughter. Mandy was at school, he knew, although she'd sworn – not that he gave a shit- to be home by the time the 'party' started. Brooklyn's hair was an absolute mess, sticking out from a haphazard bun on the top of her head and was still clad in sweatpants and a tank top. Marley was a vision, and it made a smile start to rise. She was wearing a dark red puffy little dress with a half black and half red heart hat, sprawled on the floor over a big sign she was eagerly scribbling all over. His girl was sitting next to Brooklyn, gnawing on a teething ring and tossing the blocks he assumed were supposed to keep her occupied all over the room.

The brunette was bent over something, intently gluing two pieces of something together. Was that a giant cut out card? He wasn't even going to try to make sense of that. "I'm fucking starving. You eat?"

"I'm good, they need to eat." Brooklyn answered quickly, not even looking up at him as she flattened her palms down and put all her weight onto whatever she was trying to glue together. Music floated out from her phone, plugged into Marley's speakers and playing some band he recognized. He couldn't put a name on it, but he remembered being a kid and thinking he was a bad ass screaming '_**BACK OFF, I'LL TAKE YOU ON. HEADSTRONG, TO TAKE ON ANYONE**_' at the top of his lungs and shadow boxing in his back yard.

Fuck that, he _was_ a bad ass. Nodding in assurance to himself, he shuffled to the kitchen to prepare something easy for himself and the kids. Another song he recognized, though not as well, came on and then some he didn't.

Mickey had just finished some easy mac and cheese for the kids and was right in the middle of making the best Shaggy munchies sandwich ever for himself when the sound of something large thudding to the floor assaulted his ears. Brooklyn ran full speed into the room, skidding to a stop a foot away from him with eyes as big as saucers.

"I've got it." She said, excitement glinting in her eyes and triumph touching her smile.

He waited, cocking his head a bit in question.

"Avelyn."

Mickey froze, sandwich still in hand. It struck something in him. All that flashed through his mind were warm, welcoming arms and a smile so bright it could light up the world. Soft words of love long forgotten from a time he couldn't forget.

Big, blue eyes and long dark hair. His mother.

_Amanda Lynn Milkovich._

Mickey just nodded, face blank. No words came to him, but none were necessary. Grinning victoriously, Brooklyn grabbed his free hand and dragged him to the cake. She handed him some plastic bag with a tip in the corner that had bright purple icing inside, and pointed to the empty slot.

Slowly, purposefully, Mickey scrawled the name across the cake.

'Happy 1st Birthday, Avelyn.'

They looked at each other, and he didn't even attempt to fight off the grin.

She finally had a name.

* * *

An hour later, things were going into melt down mode. Mickey was pretty sure there was glue in Brooklyn's hair as she frantically hung the last of the decorations, Marley was chewing on a marker that was surely to explode in her mouth so he snagged it, and Avelyn –_god, _it felt good to finally call her something after all this time- was playing with streamers in her walker.

"Seriously, Brook chill the fuck out! It's not like you have anyone to impress."

"It's her first birthday! It's a big deal!"

"Exactly! Her _first_! She's not even going to remember it!"

"That's what cameras are for!"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a knock at the door, and irritation flared. He stalked over, wondering who it could possibly be. No one came to their house.

He swung the door open, staring blankly at the man there. "The fuck do you want?"

"Uh…" The guy stuttered, and Mickey just glared expectantly. "I'm here to set up the bouncy castle?"

Set up the…

Scowling, Mickey left the door open but stomped over to where Brooklyn was hopping around the kitchen, frantically throwing things in dishes. "A _bouncy castle_, Brooklyn? Are you fucking joking?"

Grinning innocently at him, she wiped sweat from her brow and tossed the last of the cookies she'd made onto the plate. "What?! It's awesome!"

"Fucking really, woman? We don't even have any friends or anyone who's coming to this damn party other than my sister! And you go and buy something that can fit like, twenty kids?!" Exasperated was an understatement. She couldn't be serious.

"But now we'll have it forever, for all the future birthdays!"

Speechless, Mickey just shook his head and walked away, growling as he did so. She could deal with the fucker, then. Plopping down next to Avelyn, he welcomed her when she hobbled over into his arms. She was walking better and better every day.

"Hey…Avelyn." He tested to name on his tongue, and was glad to find it felt right. It fit. The bright smile she flashed at him set it in stone. She liked it, too.

Marley had been sitting next to her, playing with some stuffed animals she'd been putting on a little play for Avelyn with. She looked up at Mickey, her almost glowing eyes sparkling. "Avelyn?"

"Yup."

"Avvie!" Marley giggled, clapping in excitement and fixing her hat when it started to slide off her head of chestnut hair. Mickey just watched as she continued on with the fake play, making things up as she went that seemed to make total sense to her and draw Avelyn's complete attention.

* * *

Later, he found out that Brooklyn had gone with a vintage Alice in Wonderland theme for the party. He had to admit- to himself- that it was pretty fucking cool and it was actually a shame no one else was there to enjoy it. Even his dad had woken up, grunting at Brooklyn in acknowledgement of her existence which was actually friendly for him. Most of the time, he just accepted she was there. He'd gladly drank the beer she'd provided, and then stumbled out the door an hour or so later right as Mandy arrived and hadn't returned.

Mandy bought this funky looking doll for Avelyn that had lime green streaks in its hair and heavy make up on its eyes and some kind of whacky outfit on. Avelyn immediately stuck its head in her mouth, of course. Brooklyn got her a retardedly huge Snoopy; it was like three times as big as Marley. He didn't even question where the hell she'd found that.

'Marley' (Brooklyn) got her a sea foam green quilt that was all fluffy and soft, although she seemed reluctant to hand it over. She was a good sport about the whole day's attention being on Avelyn though, and it was clear that she genuinely loved the little one already.

Mickey didn't give her his present until he tucked her in for the night. He took down the mobile above her crib, replacing it with a new one. He'd searched through at least three stupidly big toy stores trying to find something like this. It was a light up mobile that had faeries and dragons and other mythical creatures on it. He knew she was too young to appreciate it, but he'd loved fantasy shit when he was younger until the real world had been punched into him so many times that he'd forgotten all about it.

He refused to let life do that do her. And so, he'd gotten to stupid thing.

"Happy birthday." He murmured as her eyes fluttered to sleep, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. She was exhausted. After the guy had put up that bouncy castle, they'd all spent all day in the back yard where Brooklyn had set up a water slide and some silly kids games that Marley enjoyed. Mandy, Mickey and Brooklyn had all took turns holding Avelyn in the bouncy castle, until she'd vomited her lunch up onto Mandy's shirt. Both of the kids were beat after all the excitement, and he heard the sound of little feet shuffling in the room and a tug on his pants.

"Mickey?" A sleepy, soft voice said and he reached down to lift Marley.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Can you put the song on and tuck me in again?"

Song? Shit, what song had been on when he'd tucked her in last night? It took him ten minutes to figure it out, shuffling through the songs until he recognized the opening notes. Marley was out within seconds, clutching onto his hand and her mouth hanging open. He kissed her on the forehead in an oddly affectionate moment for him, He stopped by Avelyn's crib, doing the same to her, pulling her blanket up a bit higher and quietly closing the door behind him.

Mandy was sitting in the living room, shoving some cookies into her mouth and guzzling a beer. Brooklyn came out from the kitchen with a platter of fruit, popping some into her mouth as she sank down next to Mandy.

"So, now what?" Brooklyn asked, leaning her head against Mandy's shoulder and eyes slipping closed. "I'm fucking beat."

"Well, our night has only begun." Mandy smirked devilishly, an evil glint in her eye when her brother and Brooklyn both looked at her questioningly. She finished her mouthful of cookie, before reaching into her bra and pulling out a little baggie filled with pink-ish crystals. "Who wants to get fucked up on Molly and jump around in the bouncy castle?"

Her only answer was Brooklyn beaming at her as Mickey snatched the bag from her hand and ran towards the back yard, shoving some of the crystals eagerly into his mouth as the girls chased after him.

An hour later, the three were laughing hysterically and breathing heavily as they jumped around like hyper little kids that had gotten into the candy stash. The pounding of their hearts only served to increase the whirling giddiness the ecstasy brought, throwing each other into the walls and doing back flips. After about forty five minutes of that, they all laid on their backs, panting. Mandy lay in the middle, head down by both of their feet as they all shared a giant blunt.

Suddenly, Mandy sat up. Her eyes shone, and she looked so intensely at Mickey that he swallowed. What was she up to?

That mischievous glint was back in her almost fully dilated eyes, and she cocked her head before holding out the blunt in offering. "To your beautiful daughter, Avelyn. She may not have been brought into this world in the most conventional of ways, but she's a fucking Milkovich and that's usually how it goes. You sure make a beautiful kid, fuckface."

Mickey stole the blunt from her fingers, putting his hand on her forehead and pushing her back down before resting his head on his arm and inhaling deeply. "Yeah, I fucking do. I'm gonna have to kill someone one day,"

"Oh, you'll definitely end up in jail for beating up the guy that nails her first." Mandy said, and Brooklyn sniggered and plucked the blunt from Mickey's mouth as he kicked Mandy in the side of the head. They all laughed, staring up out the opening at the stars and enjoying the cool summer breeze on their overheated skin.

After a few minutes of mindless chatter between the two girls, he reached over and squeezed Brooklyn's wrist as well as Mandy's ankle in silent thanks for taking this day on and turning it into a surprisingly good fucking time for him. Rolling like he was and in as high spirits as he was tonight, he still couldn't bring himself to vocalize his appreciation to these two women who were really the only things he had left in this world other than his daughter, and now Marley.

The world was a funny place, he decided. It ripped him to shreds, saddling him with a woman he didn't want and a kid he didn't want even more. It was especially, ironically, funny how a single year can change so much.

And yet, as he stared up at the sky he couldn't help but remembering a certain redhead who he wished was here for this moment. There wasn't a blanket, but there were stars and drugs and good people and that was the sort of thing he was sure Gallagher would enjoy. A wistful, sad smile crossed his mouth for a moment and he allowed himself that time to honestly feel how much he missed that shithead. And god, did it hurt.

But then Brooklyn was jumping up, tossing the spent blunt into the grass outside the castle and grinning like a mad woman at the two of them, her pupils blown so wide you could barely see the cerulean iris' and the pure happiness on her face dragged him out of his silent pity party. If she could be happy right now, so could he.

"Fucking WATER SLIDE!"

"Oh, FUCK yes!" Mandy laughed, standing up and the two ran off to the slide, dropping to the ground and sliding through it. Maniacal laughter littered the air, and Mickey felt a genuine smile rise to his lips as he hopped out of the bouncy castle and ran after them at full speed.

* * *

_He's in every one of your dreams  
And you still need him there when you sleep  
Wait for hours, counting the days  
As the tears fall down your face  
If there was something more I could be  
I would not hesitate to break free  
But for everything, there was change  
You help yourself to find your way  
Why do we always want what we cannot have,  
And set ourselves up only to lose?_

* * *

Hopefully it won't take me another two months to update this. Shits about to get real good. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own the song or lyrics to 'Avelyn', the endlessly inspiring Trapt does. Nor do I own 'Iris' by the Goo Goo Dolls, or anything else that you recognize most likely.


End file.
